GARRISON  TALES 
FROM!  TONQUIN  ,, 


J-NRLF 

ill 

B    M    IDS    D23 

. 


V 


GARRISON  TALES   FROM 

TONQUIN 

By 

James    O'Neill 


BOSTON 

COPELAND  AND  DAY 
1895 


ENTERED  .ACCORDING  TO   THE   ACT   OF 

r'/M  iRfcss-'  ;IN  iTijE  .YEAR    1895     BY 

COPELAND  AND  '  DAY,  IN  THE  OFFICE 
OF  THE  LIBRARIAN  OF  CONGRESS 
AT  WASHINGTON. 


TO    SISTER   FRANCES 
EREWHILE    MARY    O'NEILL        /U/r 
WITH   HER   BROTHER'S   DEAREST  LOVE 


M176649 


CONTENTS 

PAGE 

INTRODUCTORY  i 

RCEBKE  5 

PERE    LORAINE  1 6 

HOMESICKNESS  3° 

SLOVATSKI  49 

A  SPIRITUAL  COMBAT  62 

THE  STORY  OF  Youp-Youp  68 

ECKERMANN  AND  TANNEMEYER  76 

THE  COOLY  ioo 

"LE  BUIF"  109 

A  DREAM  117 

DE  PERIER  125 

THE  WORST  OF  THE  BARGAIN  151 

THE  PAGODA  163 

GLOSSARY  183 


INTRODUCTORY 

WITH  China  and  Japan  the  world  has  at 
length  grown  familiar ;   in  as  far  as  the 
Occident   can    comprehend    the    Orient,  the 
daily  life  of   the    Mongolian  race  has  been 
made  known  to  us. 

There  are,  however,  some  branches  of  this 
race  of  which  little  is  said.  Since  1884  the 
French  have  had  possession  of  the  northern 
province  of  Annam,  and  it  is  this  part  of  the 
extreme  Orient  that  the  following  short  tales 
may  serve  to  illustrate.  Even  in  this  prov 
ince  of  Tonkin,  —  or  Tonquin,  as  we  write  it 
in  English,  —  the  Annamites  are  divided  into 
several  distinct  peoples ;  but  how  each  may 
differ  from  the  other  would  be  a  problem 
for  the  ethnographer.  French  rule  was  not 
gratefully  accepted  in  Tonquin.  These  poor 
"savages"  did  not  at  once  comprehend  or 
appreciate  the  honor  of  being  subject  to 
France ;  so  they  made  desperate  efforts  to 
resist  French  invasion. 

France  professed  to  have  right  as  well  as 


2  TONQUIN   TALES 

might,  and  said,  forsooth,  that  it  was  to  free 
the  poor  Annamites  from  Chinese  cruelty 
and  injustice  that  she  stepped  in.  The 
Annamites  having  grown  used  to  Chinese 
authority,  doubtless  considered  that  the  devil 
they  knew  would  be  better  than  the  one  they 
did  not  know,  and  that  to  exchange  Chinese 
government  for  French  would  be  to  fall 
from  the  frying-pan  into  the  fire ;  and  ac 
cordingly  they  made  what  resistance  was 
possible. 

Those  who  survived  the  struggle  accepted 
their  new  masters  with  the  resignation  of  the 
rat  that  welcomed  death  when  the  trap 
snapped. 

But  not  all  of  them :  since  many  banded 
themselves  together,  and  fled  to  the  moun 
tains,  where  they  built  strongholds  in  which 
defiance  is  still  offered  to  French  invaders. 
Similar  "  piratical "  bands  had  always  made 
similar  resistance  to  Chinese  rule,  and  until 
justice  and  equity  reign  in  the  East,  or  until 
the  Annamite  race  dies  out,  piracy  or  brig 
andage  will  probably  flourish  in  Tonquin. 

Already  France  has  made  great  changes 
in  this  country;  she  has  spent  millions  of 
money,  expecting  an  adequate  profit,  but  the 
profit  has  not  yet  appeared ;  and  more  than 
once  she  may  have  repented  of  her  generos 
ity  (!)  and  wished  to  retreat;  but  that  such 


INTRODUCTORY  3 

men  as  Admiral  Courbet,  Francis  Gamier, 
and  others,  should  have  lost  their  lives  for 
naught  would  be  too  lamentable;  and  hav 
ing  involved  herself  so  far,  retreat  would  be 
too  great  a  disaster. 

By  the  force  of  her  army,  France  main 
tains  her  hold  on  Tonquin. 

In  Parisian  newspapers  you  may  read  that 
Tonquin  is  pacified,  and  a  quibbling  explana 
tion  will  be  made  when  the  news  arrives  that 
such  and  such  an  officer  has  been  killed  by 
the  "  pirates."  No  ;  Tonquin  is  not  yet  paci 
fied,  and  it  will  probably  be  a  long  time  be 
fore  these  bands  of  pirates  or  patriots  cease 
to  exist. 

The  Annamite  religion  is  Buddhism;  the 
language  is  as  different  from  Chinese  as 
French  is  from  Italian ;  it  is  a  monosyllabic 
language,  and  in  some  ways  very  simple 
and  easy  to  learn,  while  in  others,  it  is 
exceedingly  difficult.  The  differences  be 
tween  Annamite  and  Chinese  dress,  customs, 
arts  and  sciences,  etc.,  are  marked ;  but  that 
the  Annamites  have  been  materially  influ 
enced  by  the  Chinese  is  evident.  Inferior  to 
the  Chinese  they  certainly  are,  but  this  is 
probably  the  result  of  long  subjection,  rather 
than  of  innate  mediocrity.  That  the  An 
namite  is  not  an  abject  or  cowardly  race  is 
evident  from  the  fact  that  resistance  to  in- 


4  TONQUIN   TALES 

justice  continues  to  be  made;  and  that  it 
has  preserved  individuality  in  so  many  in 
stances  seems  proof  of  a  certain  superiority ; 
and  so  it  seems  to  me  that  it  merits  the 
notice  of  our  Occidental  minds. 


RCEBKE 

"  Ich  halt  einen  Kameraden." 

ONE  day  I  sat  cleaning  my  rifle,  —  trying 
to  clean  it  rather,  and  not  succeeding 
at  all.  We  had  been  out  at  target  practice, 
and  now  with  dry  rags  I  was  trying  to  remove 
the  soot  from  the  barrel. 

From  my  soul  I  loathed  the  work,  and  my 
disgust  must  have  been  apparent  in  my  face, 
for  Rcebke  came  forward  and  took  it  from 
me. 

"  O,  but  you  musn't  wet  the  rags,"  I  ex 
claimed,  for  I  saw  him  dip  the  one  on  the 
end  of  the  ramrod  into  a  basin  of  water. 

"  Why  not,  pray?  "  he  asked. 

"  Because  some  moisture  might  be  left  on 
the  inside  of  the  barrel,  and  that  would  cause 
rust." 

"  Might  be  left,  yes ;  but  I  do  not  intend 
to  leave  any.  The  time  you  spend  in  trying 
to  get  the  soot  out  in  your  way  will  not  be 
needed  in  getting  all  the  moisture  out  in  my 
way." 


6  TONQUIN   TALES 

Very  dexterously  he  did  the  job,  and  in 
a  little  while  my  rifle  was  shining;  fit  to  pass 
the  inspection  of  a  gunsmith. 

"  You  see,"  he  went  on,  "  if  one  will  be 
careful  and  exact,  he  may  use  expedients 
which  are  forbidden  to  others ;  one  need  not 
always  choose  the  hardest  method  of  doing  a 
thing  because  it  is  the  safest ;  of  course  a  bad 
swimmer  must  walk  around  and  cross  on  the 
bridge,  but  if  you  can  swim  as  well  as  you 
can  walk,  why,  you  may  plunge  in  and  get 
across  first.  You  may  even  have  your 
clothes  dry  before  the  other  fellow  arrives." 

Roebke  was  not  given  to  talking  much,  and 
this  little  spurt  of  philosophy  surprised  me. 
He  had  been  at  Gex  for  a  month,  but  I  had 
never  noticed  him  particularly.  He  and  Dare 
had  arrived  with  a  detachment  of  "  bleus" 
and  they  had  been  put  into  our  squad. 

Now,  Dare  was  a  handsome,  loud-spoken 
fellow,  so  all  our  attention  was  given  to  him ; 
and  in  this  way  Roebke  had  come  among  us 
unnoticed. 

"  Come  on  !  "  I  said,  "  if  water  is  good  for 
rifles,  then  wine  is  good  for  us.  Come  on, 
I'll  pay  you  a  quart" 

This  was  a  weak  joke ;  still  I  was  surprised 
at  the  way  he  took  it. 

"  O,  excuse  me,"  he  said,  "  I  did  not  clean 
your  rifle  in  order  to  earn  a  drink." 


RCEBKE  7 

"  I  did  not  suppose  so,  either,"  I  retorted, 
"  or  I  would  not  have  let  you  do  it.  Now 
don't  stop  me  from  liking  you.  Besides,  you 
may  pay  for  the  quart  yourself  if  you  are  so 
very  stiff-necked."  Then  he  excused  his 
speech  and  we  went  off  to  the  canteen. 

If  I  had  thought  to  draw  him  out  over  one 
glass  of  wine  it  was  because  I  did  not  know 
my  man. 

As  we  talked  together, —  I  believe  we  talked 
shop  mostly  on  that  occasion,  but  some 
people  can  talk  of  logarithms  and  make  them 
interesting,  —  as  we  talked,  I  say,  I  wondered 
at  my  lack  of  perception.  How  was  it  that 
I  had  given  my  attention  to  the  addle-headed 
Dare,  and  overlooked  Rcebke?  Well,  hence 
forth  I  would  repair  my  error ;  and,  indeed, 
Dare  quite  faded  from  my  horizon,  and 
Rcebke  grew  great  before  me.  Desmond, 
who  was  an  unobserving  Irishman,  once 
asked  me  why  I  wasted  my  time  talking 
to  Rcebke,  and  I  said :  "  O,  there  is  no  ac 
counting  for  taste,  you  know;  some  waste 
their  time  one  way  and  some  another. 
Every  one  cannot  be  interested  in  Gaboriau's 
novels.'1  And  so,  every  evening,  all  that 
Algerian  summer,  Rcebke  and  I  would  sit 
on  Esther's  tomb  in  the  old  Jewish  cemetery 
of  Gex,  and  talk  of  everything  human  and 
divine. 


8  TONQUIN  TALES 

Before  the  summer  was  gone  we  had  grown 
somewhat  familiar  with  each  other,  so  once  I 
ventured  to  ask :  "  What  brought  you  into 
the  French  army,  Rcebke?  " 

He  looked  at  me  in  a  strange  way,  and 
said  slowly:  "  Do  you  wish  me  to  tell 
you?" 

After  a  moment's  consideration  I  replied : 
"  No,  perhaps  you  had  better  not;  on  second 
thoughts  I  am  sure  you  had  better  not. 
Please  forget  that  I  asked  you  about  it." 
But  he  did  not  forget,  and  our  companion 
ship  was  somewhat  spoiled  after  that:  he 
was  wishful  to  tell  me  the  story  of  his  life, 
and  I  was  anxious  to  prevent  him.  After 
that  I  was  employed  in  the  Bureau  des  en 
trees  at  the  hospital,  and  I  saw  little  more  of 
Rcebke  for  a  time.  Then,  with  mystery  in 
his  manner,  he  came  to  me  one  evening  and 
asked  me  to  come  and  talk  with  him. 

The  summer  had  passed  and  the  night  air 
was  cold,  but  we  went  again  and  sat  on 
Esther's  tomb.  Thistles  gone  to  seed  and  dry 
grasses  made  the  place  look  desolate;  we 
might  have  gone  to  the  canteen,  or  to  a 
Moorish  coffee-house,  but  unconsciously  we 
went  to  the  old  spot. 

"You  know,"  Rcebke  began,  "  that  I  am 
going  to  Tonquin." 

"  No,  I  did  not  know,"  said  I ;  "  but  I  think 


ROEBKE  9 

you  are  wise.  I  am  thinking  of  asking  to  go 
myself." 

"  O,  will  you?  I  wish  you  would,"  he 
cried.  "  If  you  come  I  need  not  tell  you  yet." 

"  Need  not  tell  me  what?  "  I  asked. 

"Why,  the  story  of  my  life;  how  I  came 
to  be  here." 

"  But,  my  dear  fellow,  you  need  not  tell 
me  in  any  case,  need  you?  True,  I  was  curi 
ous  for  half  a  minute, —  you  seem  to  be  so 
well  fitted  for  a  better  life ;  but  now,  believe 
me,  I  have  not  the  least  wish  to  know ;  and 
consider  this,"  I  went  on,  "  in  your  life  you 
may  have  committed  some  crime ;  you  may 
have  worked  some  evil ;  if  it  were  so  and  if  I 
knew  it  I  might  say  —  I  would  say,  knowing 
your  present  character  as  I  do  —  that  nothing 
in  your  past  could  ever  make  any  difference 
in  my  regard  for  you  now.  Yes,  I  would  say 
this,  and  I  would  mean  it  too ;  yet,  try  as  I 
might,  I  should  not  be  able  to  forget  what 
you  might  tell  me;  it  would  influence  my 
thoughts  of  you  in  spite  of  myself,  and  I  would 
regard  you  accordingly.  No  doubt  this  seems 
selfish  in  me,  to  object  to  hearing  your 
story ;  but  I  know  myself  a  little,  and  I  know 
you  a  little.  Evil,  yes,  there  is  plenty  of  evil 
in  all  of  our  lives,  and  my  belief  is  that  the 
wisest  course  is  to  hide  it,  —  to  put  it  away 
as  far  as  we  can,  —  out  of  sight.  It  will 


io  TONQUIN   TALES 

spread  if  we  tell  of  it.  Of  course  confession 
would  give  relief:  sins  always  seem  smaller 
when  we  talk  them  over.  I  have  concluded 
that  the  right  punishment  for  our  evil  deeds 
is  to  be  obliged  to  keep  them  hidden." 

All  this  time  Rcebke  listened  in  silence ; 
already  it  was  too  dark  for  me  to  see  the  ex 
pression  of  his  face.  At  last  he  said :  "  How 
romantic  you  are  !  I  did  not  say  there  was 
any  crime  or  any  evil  in  my  past  life,  did 
I?" 

"  O,  no ;  nor  did  I  say  there  had  been.  I 
only  said  that  if  it  were  so  I  did  not  wish  to 
know  it." 

"  Well,  there  has  been  evil,"  he  said,  "  but 
not  of  my  doing.  If  what  I  have  to  tell  you 
regarded  only  myself,  I  should  not  hesitate 
for  an  instant ;  but  others  are  involved,  and  so 
I  hesitate.  Now,  if  you  are  coming  to  Ton- 
quin,  I  will  postpone  my  story.  I  can  tell 
you  on  the  ship,  or  after  we  arrive.  If  I 
had  known  you  intended  to  come  I  would 
not  have  called  you  out  to-night.  You  see  I 
have  decided  to  go,  and  I  shall  probably 
never  return.  I  wanted  some  one  to  hear  my 
story;  some  one  who  would  understand  and 
know  how  to  act;  some  one  I  can  trust." 

"But  hold  on,  Rcebke,"  I  exclaimed, 
"  you  think  I  am  such  a  one?  Indeed,  you 
mistake."  He  interrupted  my  protest  and 


RCEBKE  1 1 

began  to  talk  Schopenhauer.  Finally  he 
came  back. 

"  One  thing  I  will  tell  -you  now,"  he  said. 
"  I  wear  a  wallet  attached  by  a  cord 
about  my  neck,  —  after  the  manner  of  Ger 
man  soldiers  who  carry  their  money  in  that 
way.  Now,  there  is  no  money  in  my  wallet, 
but  there  is  a  ring,  and  some  writing;  it  is  a 
writing  in  cipher,  with  a  key  which  you  can 
easily  understand.  If  you  hear  of  my  death, 
please  try  to  obtain  possession  of  this  wallet, 
and  act,  if  you  can,  as  the  writing  will  instruct." 

"Well,  Roebke,"  I  said,  "  a  minute  ago  you 
accused  me  of  being  romantic,  but  with  your 
ring  and  your  cryptogram  you  seem  doubly  so. 
But  why  do  you  talk  of  death?  Thousands 
who  go  to  Tonquin  never  come  back,  I  admit ; 
but  that  is  no  reason  why  you  and  I  should 
not  come  back,  if  we  go.  However,  if  it  will 
relieve  your  mind,  I  promise  to  do  as  you 
wish." 

The  moon  had  arisen,  and  lighted  up  the 
white  tombs  around  us.  The  night  wind 
rustled  through  the  dry  thistles,  A  strange, 
weird  feeling  was  in  the  air. 

I  was  glad  when  Rcebke  stood  up.  "  Let's 
go  and  drink  to  our  safe  return,"  he  said ;  so 
we  went  off  to  the  canteen.  .  .  . 

On  the  ship  there  was  no  chance  for  Rcebke 


12  TONQUIN   TALES 

to  tell  me  his  story :  we  were  not  quartered 
near  each  other,  and  on  deck  there  was  always 
some  one  else  present.  "  When  we  arrive," 
he  said.  But  when  we  arrived  in  Tonquin 
there  was  still  no  opportunity ;  and  then  we 
were  sent  to  different  posts :  he  to  Yen-Bay 
and  I  to  Yen-Luong. 

Twice  I  was  at  Yen-Bay,  but  found  him 
absent.  On  my  third  visit  I  met  him,  and 
we  talked  a  little.  He  was  unwell  and 
gloomy. 

I  tried  to  arouse  him,  to  bring  him  out  of 
his  phlegmatic  indifference,  to  show  him  how 
unhealthy  it  was  to  sit  moping  in  such  a 
climate ;  but  he  listened  to  me  as  if  I  were 
far  away  and  he  had  not  understood.  An 
other  time  I  found  him  when  I  was  on  my 
way  to  Ka-Dinh,  and  we,  with  Fensch  and 
another,  spent  a  few  hours  together ;  and  then 
on  my  return  I  saw  him  and  made  an  extra 
effort  to  stir  him  up. 

"  See  here,  Roebke,"  I  said,  "  you  will 
not  learn  the  Annamite  language ;  nay,  I  do 
not  blame  you ;  but  there  is  no  reason  why 
you  should  not  learn  English." 

When  I  said  that  he  jumped  up  and  said : 
"  Why,  I  know  English  already.  Do  you 
know  it  too?"  Sure  enough  he  did.  Our 
surprise  was  mutual.  "  Why,  oh,  why  did 
we  not  find  this  out  sooner?  "  he  cried,  "  then 


ROEBKE  13 

I  could  have  told  you  my  story  on  ship 
board  and  no  one  else  would  have  been  the 
wiser." 

"  But  it  is  not  too  late  now,  is  it?"  I 
asked. 

"  We  have  not  time  for  it  to-day,"  he  said, 
"  but  when  will  you  be  up  again?  " 

"  I  don't  know,  but  surely  in  a  week  or  so ; 
and  I  can  bring  you  some  English  books. 
You  read  English?" 

"  O  yes,  why  —  I  am  an  Englishman." 

"  What !  You  an  Englishman  !  "  I  did 
not  believe  my  ears. 

"Yes,"  he  said  positively;  "  but  you  will 
understand  when  you  hear  my  story.  Bring 
me  your  English  books  by  all  means." 

It  was  two  weeks  before  I  was  sent  to  Yen- 
Bay  again. 

I  had  some  good  books,  —  some  of  Steven 
son's,  I  think,  — and  I  was  anxious  for  Rcebke 
to  have  them. 

At  last  an  escort  was  commanded  to  take 
something  up  to  Yen-Bay, —  money,  I  believe 
it  was,  —  some  bags  of  piasters,  and  I  was 
told  to  get  ready. 

Then  DeLanny  came  running  to  me  and 
begged  me  to  let  him  go  in  my  stead.  He 
wanted  to  see  his  comrade.  But  I  refused  ; 
I  wanted  to  see  Roebke.  Again  he  pleaded, 
but  I  was  deaf.  What,  after  waiting  so  long 


H  TONQUIN   TALES 

for  a  chance?     No,  DeLanny  could  wait  for 
his  turn  as  I  had  done. 

On  the  way  I  began  to  ponder  and  ques 
tion.  What  strange  thing  would  Rcebke. 
have  to  tell  me?  Was  it  really  something 
worth  making  so  much  of  a  mystery? 
"  Every  one,"  I  thought,  "  imagines  his  own 
little  experience  is  of  the  greatest  importance 
in  the  world."  — "  Pshaw,"  returned  my 
better  sense.  "  Not  Rcebke  ;  he  is  a  man  of 
genuine  commonsense ;  he  does  not  make 
mountains  of  mole-hills ;  surely  it  will  be  an 
elephant  at  least  that  his  mountain  will  give 
birth  to.  What  sort  of  an  elephant,  I  won 
der  !  " 

I  learned,  on  reaching  Yen-Bay,  that  Rcebke 
had  gone  out  with  a  hunting  party,  on  the 
route  to  Ka-Dinh,  and  that  he  would  return 
in  a  few  hours.  I  was  tired,  so  I  lay  down 
and  went  to  sleep. 

I  was  awakened  by  some  one  who  said, 
"  It's  Rcebke  !  I  tell  you  it's  Rcebke  !  " 

"Where?  what?"  I  cried,  and  I  sprang 
up.  Yes,  it  was  Rcebke,  shot  through  the 
breast  by  a  pirate's  bullet,  and  they  were 
bringing  him  in  on  a  bier.  So  his  premoni 
tion  was  true. 

For  a  time  I  was  stunned ;  then  I  said  I 
would  help  to  prepare  his  body  for  burial. 
And  I  remembered  his  desire :  that  I  should 


RCEBKE  15 

take  the  wallet  with  the  ring  and  the  writing 
and  do  for  him  as  these  might  explain  to  me. 
Already  two  informarians  were  undressing 
him,  and  I  ran  to  them.  Yes,  there  was  the 
wallet  on  the  cord  about  his  neck,  as  he  had 
said.  "  I  am  his  friend,"  I  stammered;  "he 
said  I  should  take  this  wallet ;  it  contains  a 
ring  and  some  writing ;  that  is  all ;  I  will  show 
you." 

"  All  right,"  said  one.  And  then  I  went 
to  take  the  wallet,  but  I  staggered  back, 
aghast.  I  found  that  the  thing  about  his  neck 
was  only  the  semblance  of  a  wallet,  tattooed 
and  painted  on  the  white  skin. 

I  never  learned  Rcebke's  story.  He  is 
buried  on  a  hill,  back  of  Yen-Bay ;  his  coffin 
was  of  woven  bamboos,  and  we  put  palm 
branches  on  his  grave. 


PERE    LORAINE 


ABOUT  twenty  or  thirty  years  ago  there 
was  a  new  voice  heard  in  Paris.  It  was 
not  a  mighty  voice  like  that  of  Pere  Lacor- 
daire,  perhaps,  but  it  was  like  an  echo  of  his 
voice,  full  of  sweetness  and  consolation ; 
and  no  one  could  hear  it  unmoved.  It  spoke 
to  the  heart  rather  than  to  the  mind ;  and  so 
all  good  women  —  aye,  and  all  bad  women  — 
flocked  to  hear  it.  Duchesses  and  laun 
dresses,  Maries  and  Magdalens,  sat  down  to 
gether  and  listened,  —  listened  till  the  fire 
of  love  was  kindled  in  their  hearts ;  till  ten 
derness  and  sympathy  succeeded  pride  and 
scorn ;  listened  till  they  turned  and  kissed 
each  other. 

It  was  at  Saint  Sulpice  that  Pere  Loraine 
began  to  preach.  He  was  but  a  young  man 
newly  ordained,  and  no  one  had  ever  sus 
pected  his  power;  and  no  one  was  more 
surprised  by  it  than  himself. 

His  life  as  a  student  had  not  been  remark 
able  at  all ;  his  superiors  and  professors  had 


PERE   LORAINE  17 

found  him  somewhat  dull  in  matters  of  the 
ology,  and  except  that  he  was  clever  in 
geometry  and  languages,  nothing  had  ever 
been  said  of  him. 

The  superior  of  the  Sulpicians  had  been 
appointed  to  preach  the  Lenten  sermons  that 
year,  but  he  fell  sick,  and  his  task  was  given 
to  the  young  priests  in  turn,  till  it  was  the 
turn  of  Pere  Loraine,  and  then  he  preached 
from  mid-lent  till  Easter,  and  Paris  listened. 

Would  he  hear  confessions?  asked  the 
duchesses.  Would  he  advise  them  in  things 
spiritual?  Would  he  direct  them  person 
ally?  Would  he — would  he  lose  his  own 
soul?  he  asked.  No.  After  Easter  he  dis 
appeared.  Then  the  duchesses  went  to  the 
bishop  to  get  him  back  —  and  the  laun 
dresses  would  have  signed  the  petition  if  they 
had  known  how  to  write.  Well,  the  bishop 
said  yes,  and  Pere  Loraine  came  back  and 
preached  eight  more  sermons ;  and  after 
that  Paris  heard  him  no  more. 

I  think  he  worded  his  sermons  in  a  very 
simple  manner ;  and  they  were  mostly  about 
simple  everyday  matters;  only,  by  his 
voice  and  gesture,  and  by  the  fire  of  love 
and  faith  which  burned  in  his  heart,  his  words 
were  sublime  —  on  his  tongue  was  the  true 
eloquence. 

Of  course  his  bishop  sided  with  the  duch- 


1 8  TONQUIN   TALES 

esses,  and  he  would  have  had  him  remain 
so  as  to  reflect  glory  on  the  church,  only 
Pere  Loraine  decided  otherwise.  In  his 
youth  he  had  determined  to  become  a  mis 
sionary,  and  for  this  purpose  he  had  learned 
languages. 

To  remain  in  Paris  and  be  adored  by  fine 
ladies,  yes,  that  would  be  delightful ;  and 
he  could  almost  convince  himself  that  it  was 
his  duty ;  else  why  had  God  given  him  this 
power  of  touching  hearts?  Such  eloquence 
as  converted  the  people  of  Paris  would  be 
wasted  on  the  barbarians  of  the  Orient.  Yes, 
it  really  seemed  as  if  God  had  intended  him 
for  this  life  of  ease  and  elegance  in  Paris. 

But  would  it  last?  Could  he  retain  his 
power  over  men  when  his  ears  and  his  heart 
would  have  become  filled  with  himself  ? 
His  power,  he  knew,  consisted  now  in  the 
truth  of  his  purpose,  —  because  he  himself 
felt  he  could  make  others  feel.  But  how 
would  it  be  when  flattery  had  accomplished 
its  work,  —  when  he  should  no  longer  see  or 
hear  or  feel  anything  but  his  own  magnifi 
cence,  his  own  glory?  Why,  then  God's 
glory  would  be  forgotten,  and  he  would  have 
nothing  but  empty  husks  wherewith  to  feed 
the  people ;  these  they  would  refuse,  and 
they  would  turn  and  rend  him.  No,  a  thou 
sand  times  no :  he  would  leave  the  duchesses 


PERE   LORAINE  19 

to  their  own  devices,  and  he  would  go  to 
Tonquin  as  a  missionary. 

Gravely  doubting,  the  bishop  assented.  I 
do  not  know  what  took  his  place  with  the 
duchesses  after  that ;  but,  doubtless,  they  did 
not  lack  amusement.  As  for  the  laundresses, 
why,  they  had  their  work  as  usual,  I  suppose, 
and  that  is  a  great  deal.  The  contention 
Pere  Loraine  had  with  his  bishop  was  trifling 
compared  with  the  struggle  he  had  with  him 
self.  Death  could  claim  no  greater  sacrifice 
of  him  than  this  which  he  was  about  to  make. 
It  was  a  death  in  life  which  he  had  chosen. 
How  could  he  exile  himself  from  all  the 
things  he  knew  and  loved? 

His  mother — yes,  and  his  friend  ! 

O,  it  was  bitter  —  bitter  !      .     .     . 

But  Christ  had  called  him,  and  how  could 
he  shut  his  ears  to  that?  How  could  he 
make  as  if  he  had  not  heard? 

Ah,  he  had  heard,  and  he  would  obey,  — 
yes,  cheerfully.  At  least  his  lips  should  smile, 
and  none  should  know  how  his  heart  might 
bleed. 

Peace  would  come  in  time,  too ;  and  he 
would  forget  his  friend  and  his  mother? 
Why  not?  Surely  God  would  not  forget 
her,  so  why  need  he  fret? 

But,  now,  again :  should  he  remain  in  Paris 
he  might  soon  become  a  bishop  —  the  ladies 


20  TONQUIN   TALES 

would  see  to  that.  And  as  a  bishop,  what 
great  powers  he  would  have  of  serving  God 
and  the  Church;  there  would  be  money  to 
build  churches,  to  educate  young  men  for 
missionaries.  O,  money  and  influence  for 
endless  good,  whereas  now  —  Back,  Satan! 
Get  thee  behind  me !  .  .  . 

Twenty  years  ago  the  Far  East  was  not  so 
much  in  people's  minds  as  it  is  to-day.  Stories 
of  murdered  missionaries  were  heard  occasion 
ally,  but  it  was  still  the  West  which  attracted 
attention.  So  Pere  Loraine  was  soon  for 
gotten.  Sometimes  his  mother  may  have 
heard  from  him,  or  sometimes  his  friend  ;  but 
very  soon  communication  ceased,  and  he  was 
as  one  dead  to  his  sometime  friends ;  yet  here 
he  was  in  Tonquin  all  this  time,  about  his 
Father's  business.  He  had  been  very  cautious 
in  his  work ;  first  he  had  assumed  the  habits 
and  dress  of  the  people ;  he  had  learned  to 
wear  sandals  and  a  turban.  The  Kay-oh  was 
quite  like  a  cassock  anyway,  except  that  it 
was  open  at  the  sides.  Then  he  had  learned 
to  eat  rice  with  chopsticks,  and  to  sit  on  the 
floor  while  doing  it;  he  could  even  smoke 
the  Annamite  pipe.  In  this  manner  he  was 
able  to  establish  a  little  school  in  which  he 
began  his  work  of  introducing  Christianity. 

Slow,  very  slow  work  it  was,  and  he  could 
never  flatter  himself  with  a  great  result. 


PERE   LORAINE  21 

True,  the  natives  loved  him,  or  they  seemed 
to,  and  they  would  say  the  prayers  and  make 
the  signs  he  taught  them. 

But  Buddhism  was  not  supplanted  for  all 
of  this.  Pere  Loraine  felt  it  and  grieved. 
Did  the  fault  of  this  lie  with  him?  Not  at 
all ;  it  was  in  the  eternal  nature  of  things 
that  it  should  be  so.  The  tree  which  has 
grown  awry  for  many  years  may  indeed  be 
bent  straight,  and  will  remain  so  while  your 
hand  holds  it ;  take  your  hand  away  and  it 
will  fly  back  to  its  natural  form.  Ah,  you 
say,  but  its  natural  form  is  perpendicular ! 
Is  it?  Who  planted  it,  then?  And  is  your 
straightness  perfectly  straight?  Think!  With 
fire  and  sword  the  Spaniards  labored  for  three 
hundred  years  to  put  down  idolatry  in  Mexico, 
planting  Christianity  in  its  stead ;  yet  when 
an  idol  was  unearthed  there  a  few  years  ago, 
it  was  seen  that  some  one  had  come  in  the 
night  and  crowned  it  with  flowers.  Surely 
at  this  rate  the  worship  of  Buddha  might 
well  withstand  twenty  years  of  one  man's  in 
fluence.  Aye,  for  twenty  years  Pere  Loraine 
had  labored ;  and  now,  with  strength  and 
vigor  gone,  gone  so  quickly  in  this  strange 
climate,  he  still  toiled.  Ah  !  if  by  any  means 
he  might  save  some ;  for  though  prematurely 
old  and  feeble,  his  faith  and  love  were  still 
young  and  strong  within  him. 


22  TONQUIN   TALES 

During  these  long  years  of  waiting — of 
waiting  for  the  end — he  had  amused  him 
self  with  one  of  his  old  studies;  it  was  a  little 
link  to  bind  him  to  his  past,  and  to  remind 
him  that  after  all  he  was  a  Frenchman  and 
not  an  Annamite.  As  a  student  he  had  been 
fond  of  geometry,  and  had  stood  high  in  the 
class,  and  now  he  made  use  of  his  knowledge ; 
here  he  could  put  it  in  practice.  Many  days 
and  nights  he  had  spent  in  making  maps  of 
his  district.  Carefully  he  had  traversed  the 
winding  paths,  through  rice-fields  and  over 
mountains,  from  village  to  village,  tracing 
everything  in  accurate  precision.  The  natives 
did  not  understand  it ;  there  were  still  many 
things  about  him  which  they  found  strange 
and  unaccountable.  This  may  have  caused 
them  to  venerate  him  all  the  more,  or  it  may 
have  made  them  mistrust  him. 

They  could  remember  a  time  when  his 
speech  had  been  hesitating  and  uncertain, 
and  even  now  his  accent  was  peculiar.  No, 
he  was  not  one  of  themselves,  and  they  did 
not  understand  him.  No,  nor  he  them :  to 
this  day  he  would  ask  foolish  questions  — 
why  they  did  this  or  said  that — things 
every  one  should  know  without  asking.  He 
had  told  them  many  strange  things,  too, 
such  things  as  were  quite  true,  and  yet  of 
themselves  they  would  never  have  found 


PERE    LORAINE  23 

them  out.  How  had  he  learned  them? 
Who  was  he,  anyway,  this  strange  man? 

Then  came  the  year  1884,  and  they  forgot 
him.  There  was  something  of  greater  in 
terest  to  think  of.  Here  was  their  country 
being  invaded  by  foreigners.  What  did  it 
mean?  And  Pere  Loraine  may  have  asked 
the  same  question:  What  did  it  mean?  For 
so  many  years  he  had  heard  no  news  of 
Europe ;  no  sign  from  any  western  land  had 
appeared ;  and  now  it  was  evident,  from  the 
rumors  he  heard,  that  some  European  power 
was  invading  Tonquin.  Ah,  it  would  be  the 
English,  he  supposed,  spreading  farther  their 
conquests  in  India.  But  no;  it  was — yes, 
it  was  the  French ;  his  own  countrymen ! 
What  a  resurrection  of  old  thoughts  for  him  ! 
What  emotions  must  have  filled  his  breast 
when  he  recalled  his  old,  half-forgotten 
mother-tongue !  Ah,  how  his  heart  leaped 
at  the  thought  of  speaking  it  —  and  being 
understood.  But  hold !  what  would  this 
invasion  of  Frenchmen  mean  for  this  people 
of  his  adoption?  Would  they  see  a  new 
civilization  with  favor?  Alas,  no;  for 
already  there  was  news  of  much  fighting 
and  bloodshed. 

He  had  tried  to  teach  Christian  charity  to 
his  flock ;  but  he  feared  they  would  not  be 
able  to  submit  cheerfully  to  oppression  and 


24  TONQUIN   TALES 

to  love  their  enemies.  Alas,  this  is  such  a 
hard  doctrine  to  understand,  and  far  harder 
to  practise. 

Well,  I  suppose  Pere  Loraine  was  very 
tired  of  his  task,  and  that  his  chief  desire  was 
to  lay  it  down ;  and  to  this  end  the  approach 
of  European  civilization  must  have  comforted 
him,  since  thereby  the  march  of  Christianity 
would  be  more  rapid.  Yet  after  all  was  this 
a  positive  good?  Would  his  people  thrive 
under  a  European  civilization?  He  could 
not  tell.  Twenty  years  of  Oriental  life  had 
changed  his  new  world  ideas ;  thus,  to  in 
stance  a  small  thing,  it  seemed  now  as  right 
and  natural  to  eat  his  food  with  chopsticks, 
as  at  first  it  had  seemed  awkward ;  of  course 
he  would  gladly  resume  the  use  of  knives 
and  forks,  but  of  what  benefit  would  knives 
and  forks  be  to  these  Annamites?  What 
benefit  had  he  derived  from  chopsticks?  And 
by  one  thing,  judge  of  all  the  rest. 

When  will  we  learn  that  the  manners  and 
customs  which  differ  from  our  own  are  not, 
therefore,  evil  and  barbarous?  The  chief 
difficulty  encountered  by  the  French  in  their 
invasion  of  Tonquin  was  not  the  resistance 
made  by  the  natives  ;  that  was  indeed  a  serious 
check  in  certain  places,  so  that  the  lives  of 
many  good  men  were  lost  by  it,  but  worse 
than  this  was  the  climate  of  the  country,  so 


P&RE    LORAINE  25 

fatal  to  Europeans ;  and  then  there  was  the 
difficulty  of  the  language,  so  that  a  right 
understanding  between  the  French  and  the 
Annamites  was  seldom  attained.  Next  was 
the  difficulty  (for  the  French)  of  not  knowing 
the  roads  —  not  knowing  how  to  get  from 
one  place  to  another.  They  had  maps,  it  is 
true,  but  usually  these  were  inaccurate  ;  thus 
a  mass  of  irreparable  errors  was  made  in 
every  campaign.  Very  seldom  did  it  happen 
that  a  scheme  for  a  combined  attack  suc 
ceeded  :  companies  which  should  have  been 
in  a  certain  place  at  a  certain  time  were 
miles  away,  wandering  vaguely  through 
marshy  rice-fields;  all  because  they  were 
misguided  by  the  natives,  or  by  their  own 
maps. 

It  became  known  to  the  officers  of  a  certain 
corps  that  somewhere  in  their  neighborhood 
was  a  missionary  who,  as  they  supposed, 
would  be  able  to  give  them  desirable  in 
formation,  and  perhaps  assistance.  They 
had  seen  certain  natives  wearing  crosses,  and 
when  questioned  they  were  found  to  know  a 
few  words  of  Latin ;  such  words  as  Chris tus 
and  Maria.  It  was  possible  that  this  mission 
ary  might  be  Spanish,  or  even  Portuguese, 
yet  most  probable  that  he  would  be  a  French 
man;  so  the  officers  decided  to  seek  him 
out,  and  the  next  day  three  of  them  with  an 
escort  arrived  at  his  village. 


26  TONQUIN   TALES 

What  Pere  Loraine's  feelings  were  when 
he  first  heard  the  voices  of  his  own  country 
men  speaking  the  language  of  his  youth, 
those  will  know  best  who  have  experienced 
the  same.  Indeed,  it  is  only  in  foreign  lands 
that  all  the  music  of  our  native  speech  comes 
home  to  us.  What  old  scenes  can  it  not 
evoke  !  Everything  so  long  forgotten  comes 
back  as  we  listen,  and  in  an  instant  we  are 
home  again  with  Youth  and  Beauty  and 
High  Aspiration. 

What  the  result  of  this  French  invasion 
would  be,  whether  good  or  ill,  was  not  now 
to  be  considered,  and  in  any  case  nothing 
could  be  altered ;  so,  while  the  natives  re 
garded  their  teacher  wonderingly,  he  poured 
forth  the  history  of  his  twenty  years'  exile  to 
his  countrymen.  Yesterday  it  did  not  seem 
that  he  had  any  interest  in  any  kingdom  save 
God's,  but  now,  most  eagerly,  his  ears  drank 
in  the  news  from  la  patrie.  Nay,  but  he 
asked  for  news  of  his  mother  and  his  friend. 
Alas!  he  had  thought  —  but  of  course  they 
could  not  know.  And  so  they  talked,  for 
getting  their  surroundings  and  the  cause  of 
their  meeting;  but  when  the  past  had  been 
told  over  they  began  to  consider  the  present, 
and  the  officers  made  known  why  they  had 
come  to  him :  could  he,  Pere  Loraine,  help 
them  with  guides,  interpreters,  and  maps? 


PERE    LORAINE  27 

And  they  left  him  to  consider  it.  His 
natural  impulse  was  to  comply  with  their 
wish,  and  aid  them  to  the  extent  of  his 
power  with  his  maps.  See  !  they  would  be 
of  use  at  last;  and  with  his  advice,  telling 
them  all  that  his  long  experience  had  dis 
covered  —  hold  !  would  not  this  be  the  act  of 
a  traitor?  Verily  it  would  be  like  delivering 
the  keys  of  a  castle  to  its  enemies — these 
keys  which  he  had  obtained  by  subterfuge. 

This  subterfuge  had  been  justifiable,  he 
believed,  by  the  end  for  which,  till  now, 
he  had  used  it;  but  would  he  be  honest  if  he 
used  weapons  so  obtained  for  anything  short 
of  this  end  ?  Was  the  welfare  of  his  father 
land  a  sufficient  excuse  for  him  if  he  gave 
over  the  keys  or  the  maps  to  these  officers? 
He  hesitated  till  morning;  but  when  the  offi 
cers  came  he  had  decided. 

Yes,  he  would  help  them.  It  might  be 
wrong  —  he  feared  it  was;  and  yet  with  or 
without  his  help  the  result  would  be  the 
same ;  namely,  the  French  would  take  Ton- 
quin,  and  his  resistance  would  retard  them 
but  little.  Yes,  here  were  his  maps,  and  old 
Mot-Ba,  there,  would  serve  as  a  guide  and  in 
terpreter,  and  —  God  speed  to  them  ! 

For  these  they  thanked  him  and  went 
their  ways. 

As    in  a  dream  Pere  Loraine    goes    apart 


28  TONQUIN   TALES 

into  a  little  room,  and  all  day  long  he  sits 
there  thinking  of  what  he  has  done ;  but 
thinking  most,  I  ween,  of  his  lost  youth,  which 
is  all  back  again  so  suddenly.  Had  he  been 
wise?  Would  it  not  have  been  better  if  he 
had  remained  in  Paris  and  withstood  the 
temptations  to  a  life  of  luxury?  Ah,  things 
looked  so  different  now  ! 

Perhaps  self  had  led  him  to  Tonquin,  and 
not  alone  God's  voice ;  perhaps,  after  all,  his 
life  was  a  failure.  O,  in  very  much  he  knew 
it  was  a  failure,  and  this  was  a  bitter  thought. 
What  were  the  few  converts  he  had  made 
here  compared  to  the  thousands  he  could 
have  turned  to  God  in  Paris  ?  Nay,  but  surely 
God's  voice  had  called  him  to  this  particular 
work ;  he  had  heard  it  so  plainly,  again  and 
again.  .  .  .  Had  he?  Had  it  really  been 
God's  voice  —  or  his  own  wish?  Had  he  not 
heard  what  he  wanted  to  hear  ?  "  My  God, 
my  God,  why  hast  thou  forsaken  me?" 
and  in  an  agony  of  soul  he  drops  on  his 
knees.  .  .  . 

There  is  a  tumult  without:  natives  in  a 
rage  running  to  and  fro.  What  was  this  their 
teacher  had  done?  Sold  their  country? 
Given  maps  and  a  guide  to  the  enemy?  Ha, 
the  traitor !  for  this  he  had  come  to  them ; 
they  could  see  now  that  he  was  a  Frenchman 
himself  and  no  Annamite.  So  he  had  come 


PERE    LORAINE  29 

beforehand ;  he  had  sneaked  in  among  them 
to  learn  their  ways  and  their  language,  all, 
all,  in  order  to  betray  them.  And  in  a  blind 
fury  they  dashed  into  the  little  room  where 
the  priest  was  still  kneeling ;  and  there,  be 
fore  his  crucifix,  they  beat  him  down  and 
with  heavy  knives  hacked  off  his  head. 


HOMESICKNESS 

"East,  West, 
Home's  best" 

HUGO,  —  that  was  what  we  called  him,  — 
Hugo  Heilmann;  but  it  was  generally 
understood  that  this  was  only  a  nom  de 
guerre.  His  real  name,  whatever  it  may 
have  been,  was  well  known  in  the  Swiss  can 
ton  from  which  he  had  come ;  for  there  one 
of  his  uncles  was  a  bishop  of  the  church,  and 
another  was  a  dignitary  of  state. 

Hugo  was  only  a  boy  when  he  began  to 
read  books  of  travel,  and  his  favorite  study 
was  always  geography. 

His  childhood  was  passed  with  his  mother 
and  some  servants  on  the  side  of  a  mountain, 
with  the  view  enclosed  by  other  mountains, 
and  it  was  this  feeling  of  being  shut  in  that 
first  put  thoughts  of  wandering  in  his  head. 
He  must  see  beyond ;  he  must  get  out  of  his 
cage. 

His  mother,  poor  woman,  had  thought  to 
keep  him  there,  all  to  herself;  but  seeing  how 


HOMESICKNESS  31 

restless  he  became,  she  resolved  to  send  him 
away  to  school. 

The  bishop  was  consulted,  and  soon  Hugo 
had  exchanged  one  cage  for  another. 

The  mountains  had  shut  him  in  from  the 
rest  of  the  world,  yet  he  could  climb  to  the 
tops  of  some  of  them  and  look  out  of  a  win 
dow,  so  to  say ;  but  here,  inside  the  walls  of 
this  grim  religious  school,  he  began  to  stifle. 
Now,  however,  he  could  read  and  hear  of 
the  outside  world  ;  so  he  waited.  Something 
would  happen  by  and  by,  and  meanwhile  he 
studied  geography,  —  other  things  too  ;  and 
good  reports  of  him  were  sent  to  his  mother 
in  the  mountains. 

But  the  something  he  waited  for  did  not 
happen. 

"I  must  make  it  happen,"  he  thought; 
and  so  one  Sunday  he  climbed  over  the  high 
wall,  and  wandered  at  will  through  the  town. 
There  was  music  and  dancing,  and  these 
amused  him  for  a  time ;  then  as  he  turned 
away,  a  scout  from  the  school  came  by,  and 
taking  his  arm  marched  him  back  to  his 
cage.  He  had  broken  the  rule,  so  he  must 
be  punished ;  he  must  be  locked  in  his  own 
room  for  a  week. 

Two  days  he  endured  it,  and  then  he  asked 
to  see  the  master. 

"  Please  let  me  out,"  he  said,  "  and  I  will 
not  climb  over  the  wall  again." 


32  TONQUIN   TALES 

"Your  punishment  will  end  on  Sunday," 
said  the  master ;  "  but  if  you  are  quiet  and 
obedient  you  may  be  set  free  on  Saturday." 

By  Saturday  Hugo  was  in  Paris.  To 
make  ropes  of  his  bed-sheets  and  climb 
out  of  his  window  was  a  very  simple  matter. 
Others  had  done  the  same  thing,  why  should 
not  he? 

He  had  some  money  and  a  watch,  and 
other  objects  of  value,  so  to  buy  a  ticket 
and  ride  to  Paris  was  also  a  simple  matter. 
It  seemed  a  great  thing  to  Hugo,  and  he 
was  in  a  fever  of  excitement  and  expectation 
all  the  way. 

Both  his  uncles  and  his  mother  came  in 
search  of  him,  but  they  were  too  late ;  he  had 
enlisted  as  a  soldier  in  the  Foreign  Legion, 
and  was  over  in  Algeria  before  they  reached 
Paris.  He  was  indeed  only  eighteen  years 
old,  but  being  strong  and  well  developed,  he 
was  believed  when  he  claimed  to  be  older. 

"From  bad  to  worse"  is  the  commonest 
law  of  nature,  and  Hugo  soon  found  that  his 
condition  was  not  improved.  He  had  sought 
freedom,  and  he  had  found  a  heavy  bondage. 
Truly  he  was  seeing  the  world  ;  seeing  strange 
scenes  and  strange  people,  but  all  through 
the  bars  of  his  prison  window.  The  restraint 
he  had  felt  at  home  and  at  school  was  feather- 
light  compared  with  the  oppressing  influence 


HOMESICKNESS  33 

he  was  now  subject  to.  Already  he  contem 
plated  escape.  So  it  is :  we  make  our  bed 
all  of  rose-leaves,  as  we  suppose,  but  find  it 
full  of  thorns  and  broken  glass  —  and  of 
scorpions,  it  may  be.  Must  we  perforce  still 
lie  in  it? 

Hugo  was  no  way  inclined  to  make  the 
best  of  it;  the  pleasure  of  seeing  the  world, 
on  which  he  had  staked  everything,  was 
gone ;  he  felt  only  the  thorns  in  his  bed,  and 
could  think  only  of  how  to  escape  from  them. 
Why  not  run  away?  He  had  run  away  from 
school  very  successfully  —  he  would  try  it 
again.  He  waited  only  for  a  chance.  "  But 
there  is  no  use  in  waiting  for  what  may  never 
come ;  so  much  I  have  learned  ;  I  will  make 
a  chance,"  he  thought,  and  so  the  next 
day  he  was  far  from  his  regiment,  walking 
along  a  broad,  white  road  towards  the  city  of 
Oran.  Hunger  and  thirst  began  to  attack 
him,  but  they  could  not  make  him  forget 
that  now,  at  last,  he  was  free. 

It  was  a  great  sense  of  liberty  which  filled 
his  mind,  and  he  would  think  of  nothing  else. 
At  last  he  had  his  desire ;  and  with  joy  in 
his  heart  he  went  along,  singing  and  danc 
ing  over  the  dusty  highway.  Then  all  at 
once  he  stood  still,  for  he  heard  the  noise  of 
galloping  horses  coming  behind  him. 

Peering     through     some    bushes     behind 

3 


34  TONQUIN   TALES 

which  he  had  hastily  hid,  he  saw  two 
officers  riding  past. 

He  lay  still  for  a  long  time,  then  he  began 
to  tremble ;  all  his  sense  of  freedom  was 
gone,  and  his  mind  was  filled  with  new  emo 
tions.  Where  was  he  going?  What  was  he 
to  do?  How  could  he  find  food?  The 
Future,  grim  of  aspect,  stood  sphinx-like 
before  him. 

"  I  must  get  out  of  Algeria,"  he  thought, 
"  away  from  French  possessions.  I'll  make 
my  way  somehow  into  Spain."  Hereupon 
he  fell  asleep  and  dreamed  of  the  Alhambra. 
It  was  dark  night  when  he  awoke,  and  he  felt 
great  thirst.  For  an  instant  he  could  not 
remember  what  had  happened,  and  when  it 
all  came  before  his  mind  he  shuddered. 

He  started  on  his  way,  but  looking  up  at 
the  stars  he  found  he  was  going  back  instead 
of  forward. 

Quickly  he  retraced  his  steps,  and  hearing 
the  barking  of  dogs,  he  was  aware  that  a  vil 
lage  —  at  least  a  habitation  —  must  be  near. 

As  the  moon  came  up,  he  saw,  to  the 
right,  the  dark  outline  of  an  Arabs'  tent. 
"  Good  !  "  he  said.  "  Now  I  will  test  the 
much-talked-of  hospitality  of  the  Arabs," 
and  boldly  he  approached  the  tent.  "  If 
these  Arabs  had  met  me  on  the  road  they 
would  have  brought  me  back  to  my  regiment 


HOMESICKNESS  35 

and  claimed  a  reward,  but  if  I  come  to  them 
as  a  guest  they  must  treat  me  as  a  friend." 

And  so  it  was :  not  bread  and  water  alone 
was  he  given,  but  goats'  milk,  with  dates  and 
Koos-Koos.  Then  on  sheepskins  he  slept 
till  morning ;  but  before  his  hosts  were  awake 
he  arose  and  stole  away,  even  as  they  had 
warned  him  to  do. 

Many  days  and  nights  did  Hugo  wander 
about,  now  losing,  now  finding  his  way; 
sometimes  living  on  unripe  fruit,  and  some 
times  fed  by  the  Arabs  or  by  Spanish  farm 
ers.  Eventually  he  reached  a  seaport  and 
was  wondering  how  he  could  cross  to  Spain, 
when  the  question  was  decided  by  a  member 
of  the  city  police,  who  took  him  in  charge 
and  had  him  sent  back  under  escort  to  his 
regiment.  A  deserter?  No  ;  but  he  must  be 
punished  for  "  illegal  absence  from  his  corps." 
Moreover,  as  it  was  found  that  he  had  lost 
part  of  his  equipment  he  must  be  court-mar 
tialed.  Two  years  in  the  penitentiary  was 
the  verdict. 

Alas,  and  had  it  come  to  this?  Were  all 
his  dreams  of  freedom  to  end  thus  in  prison? 
Nay, 

"  Stone  walls  do  not  a  prison  make, 
Nor  iron  bars  a  cage." 

This  is  a  fine  thought,  to  be  sure ;  but  then 
Hugo  did  not  think  it. 


36  TONQUIN   TALES 

While  waiting  for  his  trial  he  had  read  on 
the  walls  of  his  cell  many  wise  maxims: 
"  Misery  does  not  exist  for  the  philosopher." 
—  "  The  door  of  death  is  not  locked." —  "  A 
thousand  years  from  now,  what  will  it  mat 
ter?"  et  cetera. 

He  read  them  all  over  and  over,  and  day 
after  day ;  but  he  saw  no  meaning  in  them : 
they  did  not  seem  to  apply  to  his  case.  Of 
course  he  had  been  foolish,  but  surely  he  had 
done  no  great  evil  that  he  must  be  so  greatly 
punished.  He  had  only  wanted  liberty,  and 
had  always  found  captivity.  Why  was  it? 
This  was  the  question  which  troubled  him, 
and  he  could  find  no  answer  to  it.  Perhaps 
it  was  all  to  teach  him  the  lesson  of  patience. 
Patience  !  this  virtue  of  the  dumb  animals  — 
why  should  it  be  so  necessary  for  us?  Why 
must  we  fold  our  hands  and  wait? — Why? 

"  Pshaw  !  "  said  Hugo  ;  "  I  cannot  under 
stand  it.  I  would  gladly  resist,  but  I  find  I 
must  submit." 

Thus  in  bitterness  and  silence  his  two  years 
were  passed.  .  .  .  After  that  they  sent 
him  to  our  regiment,  then  stationed  at  Tiaret, 
to  finish  his  military  service ;  and  there  I 
came  to  know  him. 

Why  he  made  a  confidant  of  me  I  do  not 
know.  I  did  not  like  him  in  the  least,  but 
seeing  how  unhappy  he  was,  I  listened  to 


HOMESICKNESS  37 

him  patiently,  and  showed  him  a  half-hearted 
sympathy  —  almost  more  than  I  really  felt. 
"  What  is  it  you  most  regret?  "  I  asked  him. 

"  I  regret  everything.  All  my  time  is 
passed  in  thinking:  if  I  had  not  done  this  !  If 
I  had  not  said  that !  And  the  knowledge  that 
these  things  cannot  be  undone  is  my  one 
grief." 

"  You  had  much  better  forget  all  about  it, 
and  make  up  your  mind  to  do  your  duty  now 
as  well  as  possible.  You  have  failed  in  your 
duty  to  your  mother  and  to  your  school 
master;  now  your  duty  is  to  France.  You 
must  try  to  be  a  clean,  obedient  soldier.  It 
is  not  too  late  to  start  on  a  better  road ;  you 
are  still  young."  But  nothing  I  could  say 
ever  seemed  to  take  hold  of  him.  "You 
must  look  forward,"  I  continued.  "Think  of 
the  joy  of  returning  to  your  mountains.  At 
your  age  you  have  no  right  to  despair. 
Some  day  you  will  go  home,  and  all  you  are 
now  going  through  will  be  like  a  dream :  you 
will  wonder  if  it  really  took  place  in  your 
life.  The  fact  that  nothing  —  neither  misery 
nor  joy  —  is  of  long  duration  should  teach  us 
submission." 

"  O,  I  see  you  will  teach  me  philosophy," 
he  returned ;  "  I  have  read  it  all  on  my  prison 
walls.  But  is  it  true?  Do  you  feel  it  your 
self?  Can  you  stifle  present  pain  by  contem- 


38  TONQUIN   TALES 

plating  the  time  when  it  will  be  past?  Can 
you  ?  " 

"  No,  I  can  not,"  I  answered.  "  Misery  is 
a  reality  for  me,  and  I  am  afraid  it  always  will 
be.  But  sometimes  I  can  laugh  at  it;  some 
times  I  can  put  it  aside.  Otherwise  .... 
Can  you  not  remember  Georges  Daudin? 
It  is  perhaps  a  poor  comfort  to  think  how 
we  have  made  our  own  misfortune ;  yet 
there  is  a  certain  grim  satisfaction  in  paying 
our  scot,  in  bearing  the  results  of  our  foolish 
ness.  If  you  will  only  cultivate  a  sense  of 
the  ridiculous  you  will  find  pleasure  where 
now  you  find  sorrow." 

"Is  that  your  plan?"  he  asked.  "  Do 
you  succeed  in  it?" 

"  Please  leave  me  out  of  the  question," 
I  answered.  "  I  know  what  I  say  is  true ; 
it  does  not  matter  whether  I  act  on  it  or 
not." 

Poor  Hugo  !  he  tried  bravely  to  be  patient, 
but  I  could  see  that  he  suffered  a  great  deal. 
I  wondered  whether  he  would  ever  look 
cheerful.  One  day  he  came  to  me  with  a 
light  of  hope  in  his  face.  "  Do  you  know?  I 
am  going  to  Tonquin ;  and  I  shall  desert 
again  at  Port  Said  or  at  Singapore,  as  it  may 
turn  out." 

"  If  you  will  take  my  advice,"  I  began ; 
but  remembering  that  no  one  ever  takes  ad- 


HOMESICKNESS  39 

vice  which  does  not  correspond  with  his  own 
wishes,  I  broke  off  and  started  again. 

"  Have  you  looked  at  all  sides  of  the  ques 
tion?  "  I  asked. 

"  No ;  I  have  considered  nothing  but  the 
success  of  my  plan.  I  suppose  if  I  should 
fail  in  it,  I  would  be  worse  off  than  ever;  but 
I  shall  succeed." 

"  Well,  and  if  you  do,  if  you  manage  to 
get  free  of  the  ship,  what  will  you  do  in  a 
strange  country,  without  friends  and  without 
money?  " 

"  O,  I  will  be  free  !  I  will  go  and  come  at 
my  pleasure." 

"  Yes  ;  till  you  are  arrested  for  vagabond 
age." 

He  looked  a  little  rebuffed  at  this,  but  his 
new  idea  was  not  to  be  lightly  shaken.  "  I 
shall  try  it,  anyway,"  he  said ;  "  and  if  I  fail 
—  why,  '  The  door  of  death  is  not  locked]  " 
and  he  smiled  sadly. 

"  I  need  not  tell  you  that  you  are  a  fool, 
since  you  know  it,  and  you  will  not  thank  me 
for  any  advice ;  but  tell  me,  you  have  lived 
this  life  three  years :  can  you  not  endure  the 
rest  of  it?  It  will  not  kill  you,  and  later  on 
you  will  see  much  that  was  delightful  in  it. 
You  will  have  forgotten  all  the  fatigues  and 
annoyances,  and  will  call  to  mind  how 
soundly  you  slept  after  a  long  march.  You 


40  TONQUIN   TALES 

will  remember  your  strong,  healthy  appetite, 
which  made  the  rough  food  so  good. 

"  Then  your  heart  will  beat  faster  as  you 
think  of  the  affectionate  brotherhood  which 
existed  between  you  and  your  comrades ; 
you  will  have  forgotten  their  names,  perhaps, 
but  their  faces  will  come  before  you  often 
and  often,  and  you  will  ask  yourself  if  you 
really  were  unhappy  in  this  life." 

But  Hugo  was  not  heeding  me ;  he  was 
thinking  of  other  things.  He  was  at  home, 
and  he  saw  visions. 

He  saw  a  large  Swiss  chalet  built  against 
a  mountain,  with  heavy  stones  holding  down 
the  roof.  He  saw  his  mother  sitting  out  on 
the  veranda  waiting.  The  cherry-tree,  all 
in  bloom,  cast  flickering  shadows  here  and 
there  as  the  wind  played  in  its  branches ; 
showers  of  white  petals  flew  circling  through 
the  air,  and  some  of  them  fell  at  his  mother's 
feet.  "  She  does  not  feel  them,"  he  thought ; 
"  but  if  my  lips  could  touch  her  feet,  then  she 
would  feel." 

And  he  saw  the  swallows  flying  in  and  out 
at  the  eaves,  and  he  thought:  "They  bring 
her  no  message  from  me ;  she  does  not  heed 
them;  but  when  I  return  she  will  not  sit 
still;  then  this  look  of  sorrow  will  leave 
her  face."  .  .  . 

Hugo    caught     my    hand.       "  You     don't 


HOMESICKNESS  41 

know,"  he  sobbed.  "  How  can  you  know  what 
I  suffer?  I  am  homesick.  Do  you  know 
what  that  is?  I  cannot  wait,  I  must  go  home. 
Every  day  is  as  a  year.  I  count  the  days ;  I 
count  the  hours.  You  say  this  is  childish, 
that  I  am  a  fool ;  you  are  right,  but  I  cannot 
help  it.  I  try  hard  to  forget  my  home,  but 
every  incident  reminds  me  of  it.  I  try  in 
vain  to  overcome  this  feeling  and  I  am  utterly 
unhappy." 

"  But  at  least  you  have  not  lost  your 
reason,"  I  said ;  "  you  can  still  consider  the 
matter  logically.  See  :  you  want  to  go  home 
as  soon  as  possible,  but  you  are  determined 
to  do  something  which,  nine  chances  out  of 
ten,  will  defer  your  return  indefinitely.  This 
is  not  wise.  Have  you  learned  nothing  from 
your  past  experience?  " 

"  It  is  you  who  will  not  understand  !  "  he 
cried.  "  How  can  a  man  who  is  dying  of 
thirst  hold  back  his  hand  when  a  cup  is  held 
out  to  him?  The  cup  may  contain  poison, 
you  say.  And  what  of  it?  he  is  dying  any 
way.  Also,  there  is  a  chance  that  it  may 
contain  water.  O,  I  will  not,  I  cannot  wait ! 
I  will  do  as  I  say;  and  if  I  fail,  I  will  give  up 
the  struggle." 

And  so  Hugo  went  to  Tonquin.      .     . 

I  often  asked  for  news  of  him,  whether  he 
had  deserted  at  Port  Said  or  at  Singapore, 
but  no  one  could  tell  me. 


42  TONQUIN   TALES 

I  hoped  he  might  have  succeeded,  and 
whenever  I  remembered  him  I  pictured  him 
at  home  with  his  mother. 

Our  transport  reached  Tonquin  in  May, 
and  at  once  we  were  sent  on  up  the  Red 
river  to  our  respective  posts. 

As  we  passed  through  the  other  posts 
along  the  route  we  were  greeted  with  enthu 
siasm  by  the  old  comrades,  many  of  whom  we 
had  known  in  Algeria.  In  particular  were 
we  well  received  at  Cham-Khe :  every  one, 
men  and  officers,  came  out  to  welcome  us. 
No,  not  every  one,  either;  for  as  we  were 
shown  into  a  large  cania  where  we  were  to 
pass  the  night,  I  saw  a  soldier  sitting  apart 
in  a  corner.  Something  in  his  attitude  looked 
familiar,  and  after  I  had  arranged  my  effects 
I  walked  towards  him.  "  Why,  it  is  Hugo  !  " 
I  cried.  "  Halloo  !  have  you  forgotten  your 
friends?  "  and  I  went  near  and  touched  him. 
By  an  effort  he  pulled  himself  together  and 
wished  me  a  cold  welcome. 

Then  he  sank  back  into  thought  —  or  into 
an  absence  of  thought. 

"What  is  the  matter?"  I  asked.  "Are 
you  ill?  " 

"  No,  —  yes,  —  I  don't  know."  And  then 
he  made  another  effort  and  regained  some 
thing  of  his  old  manner. 

"You    did   not   succeed?"    I    questioned. 


HOMESICKNESS  43 

"  You  did  not  manage  to  get  away  at  Singa 
pore?" 

"  No ;  I  did  not  try.  I  might  have  done 
it,  but  I  saw  my  mother,  and  she  bade  me  not 
to  attempt  it." 

"  You  saw  your  mother?  Where?    How?" 

"  O,  I  saw  her  while  I  was  asleep.  Do 
you  laugh?  " 

"No;  why  should  I  laugh?  " 

"  But  I  have  not  seen  her  since,  and  I 
fear"  —  and  here  he  paused  and  said  no 
more. 

"  What's  the  matter  with  Hugo  ?  "  I  asked 
of  Miiller,  who  came  up  to  greet  me.  "  He 
has  not  had  a  sunstroke,  has  he?  Or  has  he 
taken  to  drink?" 

"  O,  no,  nothing  of  that ;  he  is  always  the 
same.  I  don't  know  —  nobody  knows  what 
ails  him.  He  never  speaks  unless  we  speak 
to  him  first,  and  he  does  nothing  but  sit  and 
mope.  We  have  tried  to  shake  him  out  of 
it,  but  you  see  how  he  is.  Now  we  just  let 
him  alone." 

The  next  morning,  before  we  continued  our 
journey  I  talked  again  with  Hugo. 

"  As  far  as  I  have  heard  and  read  you  are 
taking  the  right  way  to  fall  a  victim  to  this 
climate.  I  don't  suppose  your  life  is  of  much 
value  to  yourself,  but  you  should  not  forget 
that  your  mother  is  waiting  for  you  to  return. 


44  TONQUIN   TALES 

For  her  sake  you  must  come  out  of  your 
melancholia.  You  should  be  a  man;  you 
must  not  act  like  a  boy." 

"  O,  I  know  all  that,"  he  replied  ;  "  but  you 
see  there  is  no  hope  in  my  life.  I  will  soon 
know  —  I  fear  my  mother  is  dead;  but  I 
have  written  home  to  one  of  my  school-fel 
lows  for  news ;  I  expect  his  letter  soon.  I 
shall  keep  up  till  then,  till  I  know  for  cer 
tain." 

"  Well,  and  if  it  is  as  you  fear?  " 

"  O,  then  —  '  The  door  of  death  is  not 
locked,'  and  who  knows  what  will  hap 
pen?" 

"  Look  here,  Hugo,  I've  something  for 
you.  You  used  to  be  interested  in  the 
study  of  geography.  Have  you  ever  tried 
astronomy?  Here  in  my  sac  is  one  of 
Flammarion's  most  interesting  books,  '  The 
Plurality  of  Inhabited  Worlds.'  " 

A  little  light  was  in  his  eyes  as  I  began  to 
speak,  but  it  soon  faded. 

"  O,  thank  you,  but  I  know  all  Flamma 
rion's  books.  Astronomy,  that  is  to  say  the 
stars,  are  too  far  away ;  we  can  only  theorize 
about  them." 

"  Have  you  tried  to  learn  the  Annamite 
language?  "  I  asked. 

"  No ;  but  it  is  bread  I  desire,  and  you 
offer  me  stones.  I  ask  for  my  home,  and 


HOMESICKNESS  45 

you  send  me  to  the  stars,  or  you  bid  me 
remain  in  Tonquin.  I  tell  you  I  cannot 
forget." 

"  Well,  here  is  another  thought  for  you, 
then.  You  think,  you  are  sure,  that  you 
would  be  happy  if  you  were  at  home ;  but 
you  ought  to  know  that  happiness  is  not  at 
tached  to  any  particular  place  in  the  world. 
We  have  happiness  in  ourselves,  or,  as  is 
most  often  the  case,  we  do  not  have  it  at 
all.  Of  course,  certain  conditions,  certain 
outward  circumstances,  may  augment  or 
diminish  our  happiness,  but  they  cannot 
create  it. 

"  Let  us  suppose  that  you  were  to  go  home 
to-morrow:  you  believe  that  one  sight  of 
your  mountains  would  put  all  your  sadness 
to  flight.  Perhaps  it  might;  but  in  a  few 
days  your  sadness  would  return,  and  you 
would  ask,  'Is  this  all?  Is  this  what  I  de 
sired  so  much?'  Then  your  discontent 
would  return,  and  you  would  recall  with  re 
gret  all  these  scenes  which  now  you  seem  to 
ignore. 

"  Be  sure  that  if  ever  you  are  to  find 
happiness  in  this  world,  you  must  not  seek 
it  outside  of  your  own  heart.  Plant  seeds  of 
contentment,  and  happiness  will  grow  from 
them." 

"  Yes,  you  were  always  free  with   advice ; 


46  TONQUIN   TALES 

nay,  I  see,  too,  the  force  of  your  words,  but 
they  all  fall  dead  before  my  misery." 

"  Well,  here  is  still  another  thought  for 
you.  From  all  I  have  read,  added  to  what 
I  have  felt,  I  believe  that  the  love  of  one 
thing  may  make  us  indifferent  to  another; 
so  it  would  be  wise  for  you  to  learn  to 
love  something  or  some  one  here  present, 
rather  than  to  break  your  heart  longing  for 
what  is  far  away." 

"  O,  '  words  are  indeed  the  physicians  of 
a  distempered  feeling/  — you  remember  the 
quotation;  but  I  ask  you  with  Job,  —  who 
was  also  a  wise  man,  — '  What  doth  your 
arguing  reprove?  " 

"  Good-by,  then,"  I  said ;  "  I  must  go. 
We  are  to  be  at  Yen-Luong;  will  you  send 
me  a  letter  now  and  then?" 

"  Perhaps,  —  or  no ;  I  had  better  not 
promise.  Good-by ! " 

We  had  been  at  Yen-Luong  for  a  few 
weeks  when  one  day  the  dramk,  that  is  to 
say,  the  letter-carrier,  brought  me  a  letter 
from  Hugo. 

"  Because  you  desire  my  happiness,"  he 
wrote,  "  I  will  tell  you  that  I  am  now  happier 
than  you  can  well  imagine.  You  remember 
I  wrote  to  my  comrade,  asking  him  to  send 
me  news  of  my  mother,  and  desiring  him  to 
keep  silent  about  having  heard  from  me. 


HOMESICKNESS  47 

He  at  once  brought  my  letter  to  my  mother, 
and  she  has  written  to  me,  so  kind,  so  good 
a  letter.  You  cannot  know  how  happy  it 
has  made  me,  and  how  doubly  miserable  at 
the  same  time.  Never  has  my  desire  for 
home  been  as  ardent  as  it  is  now.  How  can 
I  endure  to  wait,  now  that  I  know  my  mother 
has  forgiven  me  !  I  pray  you  write  to  me. 
I  will  try  to  be  patient;  there  is  no  other 
means  of  being  at  peace  —  no  other  means, 
except  .  .  .  Adieu ! " 

The  day  after  I  received  this  letter  I  was 
sent  elsewhere  with  an  escort,  so  I  put  off 
answering  it  till  I  should  return.  But  when 
I  came  back  I  no  longer  thought  of  it.  I 
was  sure  to  see  him  later  on,  so  I  let  it  go, 
and  after  another  week  I  heard  from  him 
again. 

I  was  fast  asleep  one  hot  afternoon  when 
Kautor  came  in  and  shook  me  by  the 
shoulder.  "  O,  what  do  you  want?"  I 
grumbled ;  "  I  wish  you  would  go  "  —  but 
looking  in  his  face  I  changed  my  sentence, 
"What  is  it?" 

"  Hugo  is  dead.  You  know  Hugo  Heil- 
mann,  at  Cham-Khe.  He  left  a  letter  for 
you  here  "  — 

"  Did  he  kill  himself?  "  I  asked. 

"  Yes." 

I   took  the  letter  and  went  down    to    the 


48  TONQUIN   TALES 

pagoda  in  the    bamboo   grove  to  read  it  in 
peace. 

It  was  very  short:  "" Adieu,  dear  friend! 
I  cannot  bear  it  any  longer ;  but  '  the  door  of 
death  is  not  locked!  '  —  HUGO." 


SLOVATSKI 

BY  sickness  and  death  our  company  had 
lost  a  large  number  of  men,  and  those 
of  us  who  remained  had  double  duty  to 
perform. 

It  is  stipulated  that  soldiers  shall  sleep  six 
nights  out  of  seven,  yet  if  we  spent  two  nights 
a  week  in  bed  we  were  fortunate. 

The  result  of  this  was  more  sickness  and 
more  death,  till  we  lost  courage  and  even 
ceased  to  grumble. 

What  was  the  use  ?  Perhaps  we  too  would 
fall  sick,  and  then  we  would  be  sure  of  a  rest, 
—  at  the  hospital  or  in  the  cemetery.  The 
outlook  was  grim,  but  anything  would  be 
better  than  this  struggle. 

When  seen  of  men  and  approved,  it  is 
pleasant  to  act  bravely  and  to  sacrifice  one's 
self;  but  when  your  officers  ignore  every 
thing  but  their  own  well-being,  and  take 
your  best  service  for  granted,  then  the  strain 
seems  futile,  and  despair  and  slack  service 
may  result. 


50  TONQUIN   TALES 

At  last  we  heard  good  news :  a  transport 
ship  was  bringing  a  large  reinforcement  of 
Legionnaires,  and  all  the  posts  on  the  Red 
river  were  to  be  strengthened. 

How  eagerly  we  waited,  making  an  extra 
effort,  stimulated  by  the  hope  of  better  times  ! 

A  great  amusement  was  to  speculate  as  to 
who  would  come ;  whether  any  of  the  old 
comrades  from  Saida  would  be  sent  to  our 
post.  We  longed  for  something  —  anything 
that  would  recall  the  past;  so,  even  Gofin 
would  have  been  welcomed  with  delight, 
though  at  Saida  we  had  ignored  him  —  poor 
old  Gofin,  the  scapegrace  of  the  regiment ! 
But  there  were  Lenoir,  and  Casanova,  and 
Denkwitz,  and  scores  of  others  who  might 
come,  —  what  a  welcome  we  would  give 
them !  For  me,  I  was  in  a  high  state  of 
jubilation:  the  last  letter  I  had  received 
from  Herx  told  me  that  he  was  sure  to  come 
with  the  next  transport.  This  was  the  glad 
thing  for  me  to  think  about.  Herx,  who 
spoke  such  exquisite  German ;  whose  voice 
made  harsh  gutturals  more  soft  and  sweet 
than  all  the  Italian  vowels;  and  when  he 
repeated  Heine's  songs  —  ah,  there  never 
was  such  music  !  If  only  he  would  be  sent 
to  our  post,  —  that  was  the  doubt  which 
kept  me  subdued. 

But  at    any   rate  I  would   meet   him,  and 


SLOVATSKI  51 

our  correspondence  would  continue  less 
brokenly. 

I  had  never  seen  Herx  but  once ;  we  had 
been  thrown  together  for  a  day,  but  as  water 
joins  with  water,  so  had  we  rushed  together 
in  a  marvellous  reciprocity  of  thought  and 
sentiment. 

A  year  after  he  had  learned  my  address, 
and  since  then  our  letters  had  been  as  fre 
quent  as  possible.  He  did  not  say  so,  but  I 
knew  it  was  mostly  the  hope  of  meeting  me 
that  was  bringing  him  to  Tonquin,  and  so  I 
waited  for  him  eagerly.  .  .  .  But  no, 
he  did  not  come  —  not  to  our  post,  at  least; 
he  had  been  sent  off  to  Tuyen-Quanh  from 
Ha-No'i,  where  the  detachment  had  sepa 
rated.  Those  who  arrived  at  our  post  were 
all  strangers  to  us.  As  they  marched  in  we 
watched  them  in  silence  and  dismay ;  not  a 
face  was  familiar.  They  were  for  the  most 
part  young  men,  and  how  would  they  stand 
the  service  ?  Pshaw !  we  would  soon  be  as 
badly  off  as  ever,  for  these  fellows  would  be 
down  with  fever  before  a  week  could  pass. 

There  were  three  new  men  for  our  squad, 
and  one  of  them  was  given  a  bed  next  to 
mine ;  his  name  was  Slovatski,  and  he  was  a 
Russian ;  but  as  I  looked  at  him  my  heart 
stopped  beating.  "  Good  Lord  !  "  I  cried  in 
English,  "  don't  you  know  me?"  For  as  I 


52  TONQUIN  TALES 

believed  there  was  my  old  friend  Leonard, 
whom  I  had  known  years  before. 

Slovatski  looked  at  me  blankly,  just  as 
Leonard  would  have  done,  then  slowly  he 
smiled  and  said  in  German :  *'  You  speak 
English,  but  I  do  not  know  what  you  say." 

Of  course  it  was  impossible  that  this  could 
be  Leonard,  but  a  more  exact  resemblance  I 
had  never  seen.  I  explained  this  to  Slovat 
ski,  and  laughing  over  it  we  became  friendly. 

"  Did  you  know  any  one  on  shipboard 
named  Herx?"  I  asked. 

"Herx?  Was  he  a  Rhinelander  with  a 
white  beard  and  blue  eyes?" 

"  Yes,  he  was  a  Rhinelander,"  I  said  ;  "  but 
I  don't  remember  that  he  had  a  beard  —  or 
—  yes;  that  must  have  been  he.  Do  you 
know  where  he  has  been  sent?" 

"  To  Tuyen-Quanh,  I  think,  but  I'm  not 
sure ;  he  may  have  stopped  at  Son-Tay.  I 
get  these  outlandish  places  mixed  up.  I 
don't  know  yet  what  you  call  this  post." 

"  O,  this  is  Trai-Hut,"  I  said,  "  one  of  the 
worst  posts  on  the  river ;  if  you  could  have 
stopped  at  Kam-Khe,  or  even  at  Yen-Luong, 
you  would  have  fared  better.  We  used  to 
be  at  Yen-Luong,  but  we  came  up  here  a 
few  months  ago." 

The  longer  I  talked  with  Slovatski,  the 
more  I  was  struck  by  his  resemblance  to 


SLOVATSKI  53 

Leonard.  It  was  not  merely  in  his  face,  but 
in  his  whole  person :  the  shape  of  his  hands, 
the  drawling  mode  of  speech ;  everything 
about  him  but  the  German  tongue  reminded 
me  forcibly  of  the  year  I  had  spent  with 
Leonard  in  the  Connecticut  Valley. 

"  How  is  it  you  don't  speak  English?"  I 
asked.  "  All  the  Russians  I  ever  knew  before 
spoke  English." 

"Well,  I  never  had  a  chance  to  learn  it; 
but  if  you'll  teach  me  I'll  begin."  This  was 
not  what  I  had  expected  and  hardly  what  I 
wanted,  so  I  gave  him  a  half-hearted  re 
sponse. 

"  You  remember  when  you  first  saw  me, 
you  thought  you  recognized  me.  How  was 
it?"  So  I  told  him  in  detail  of  his  strange 
resemblance  to  my  old  friend  Leonard. 

''What!  he  is  an  American?  I  look  like 
an  American?  How  do  you  account  for 
it?" 

"  I  don't  account  for  it  at  all.  I  only  tell 
you  the  fact,  and  leave  you  to  account  for  it 
—  or  to  forget  it,  as  you  like." 

But  Slovatski  did  not  forget  it,  and  we 
never  talked  for  ten  minutes  together  with 
out- his  returning  to  the  subject.  "  Do  you 
say  your  friend  was  just  like  me  ?  The  same 
hair,  the  same  everything?" 

"  All  but  the  speech,"  I  said.  "  If  you  were 


54  TONQUIN   TALES 

to  speak  English  with  the  Connecticut  accent 
the  likeness  would  be  perfect." 

After  that  Slovatski  stopped  trying  to 
learn  English,  and  then  another  day  he  asked  : 
"  Did  your  friend  wear  a  beard?  " 

"  No ;  he  only  wore  a  moustache,  just  as 
you  do."  And  after  that  Slovatski  let  his 
beard  grow,  and  again  he  asked : 

"  Do  I  still  look  like  your  friend?  " 

"  Yes,"  I  said ;  "  but  if  I  had  not  seen  you 
first  without  a  beard  I  would  not  have  noticed 
it,  perhaps.  But  why?  You  seem  to  worry 
about  it;  there  is  nothing  in  it,  only  a  chance 
resemblance." 

"  O,  yes,  there  is  something  in  it ;  noth 
ing  happens  by  chance.  I  don't  want  to  re 
semble  any  one  like  that.  One  of  us  is 
enough  in  the  world.  Say,  is  your  friend 
healthy?  Is  he  strong?  How  old  is  he?" 

"  Why,  Slovatski !  what  in  the  world  ails 
you  ?  What  can  it  possibly  matter  to  you  that 
there  is  a  man  on  the  other  side  of  the  world 
who  looks  like  you  ?  There  is  not  one  chance 
in  a  million  that  you  will  ever  see  him."  As 
I  looked  at  Slovatski  I  saw  that  the  mere 
thought  of  seeing  Leonard  made  him  turn 
pale.  Well,  what  queer  superstition  was 
this?  But,  strangely  enough,  the  more  Slo 
vatski  tried  to  change  his  appearance,  the 
more  clearly  did  I  see  his  resemblance  to 


SLOVATSKI  55 

Leonard ;  but  finding  how  it  worried  him  I 
never  alluded  to  it.  Again  and  again  as 
I  have  watched  him  I  have  waited  to  hear 
Leonard's  voice  with  the  well-remembered 
nasal  twang,  so  when  Slovatski  spoke  German 
with  the  Berlin  accent  I  have  started  at  the 
incongruity  of  it.  He  would  notice  this  and 
say:  "  O,  I  see;  you  think  now  of  your 
friend  in  America.  I  don't  look  like  him 
now,  do  I?  " 

Alas,  no ;  the  resemblance  was  fast  disap 
pearing:  the  ruddy  cheeks  were  becoming 
thin  and  pale ;  the  full,  red  lips  were  growing 
drawn  and  pinched;  and  the  merry  blue  eyes 
were  shaded  by  dark  circles.  So  the  likeness 
was  fast  going;  only  the  expression  of  the 
eyes  remained,  and  the  same  smile  showed 
the  same  white  teeth. 

"  What  is  the  matter  with  you?  "  I  asked. 
"  Have  you  the  fever?  You  look  very  much 
altered." 

"  I  don't  know  what  it  is,"  he  answered. 
"  I  suppose  it  is  the  climate, —  and  I  am  al 
ways  thinking  of  Odessa;  wishing  I  were 
back  there." 

"  Odessa?  Why,  I  thought  you  came 
from  Moscow." 

"  O,  no,  my  home  is  in  Odessa.  I  was  at 
school  in  Moscow,  and  many  of  my  friends 
are  there ;  that  is  why  I  talk  about  it." 


56  TONQUIN   TALES 

"  Well,  I  thought  no  one  but  Jews  lived  at 
Odessa;  that  was  why  I  was  surprised. 
You're  not  a  Jew,  are  you?" 

"  No,  not  exactly;  but  I  dare  say  some  of 
my  ancestors  were  Jews.  You  don't  like 
them?" 

"  O,  I'm  not  particular;  a  Jew  or  a  Gen 
tile,  it  is  all  one  to  me." 

"  What  ever  started  you  to  talk  about 
Jews,  I  wonder.  With  me  it  is  a  sore  sub 
ject.  I  would  not  have  been  here  but  for 
them." 

"No?     How  so?" 

"  It  is  hardly  just  to  say  that,  either,  I  sup 
pose.  You  see  I  wanted  to  marry  a  Jewess, 
and  my  father  would  not  have  it ;  so  we  had 
a  quarrel  instead  of  a  wedding,  and  I  ran 
away.  Minka — her  name  was  Minka  — 
would  not  marry  me  without  my  father's  con 
sent,  so  I  quarrelled  with  her  too !  That 
made  me  desperate ;  and  being  in  Paris  with 
out  any  money,  I  enlisted  in  the  Legion, 
like  so  many  others.  You  are  sure  I  don't 
look  like  your  friend  in  America  now?" 

Thus  it  was :  whatever  we  talked  about  he 
always  came  back  to  that  old  question. 
"  No,"  I  said ;  "  not  as  you  did  when  I  first 
saw  you.  But  what  of  it  anyway?  Why  do 
you  care?  " 

"  I  care,  because  I  believe  that  if  two  look 


SLOVATSKI  57 

alike  they  are  alike,  and  one  of  my  kind  is 
enough  in  the  world.  Do  you  see?  " 

"No,  I  don't  see ;  or  at  least  I  see  that  you 
are  what  my  friend  in  America  would  call  a 
crank,  which  means  as  much  or  as  little  as 
you  like." 

This  was  my  last  talk  with  Slovatski.  In 
the  night  I  fell  sick  with  some  bad  fever  and 
was  taken  next  day  into  the  store-room,  where 
I  was  expected  to  die.  Fischer  died,  and 
two  others  of  our  squad,  but  I  began  to  re 
cover. 

When  they  could  move  me  I  was  taken 
down  to  the  river  and  embarked  in  a  Chinese 
junk.  No  sooner  were  we  started  southward 
than  I  began  to  feel  strong  and  well,  and  my 
first  impulse  led  me  to  stand  up  and  see 
what  was  taking  place. 

Besides  the  coolies  who  were  guiding  the 
junk,  I  found  that  there  were  two  other 
Legionnaires  aboard  —  and  one  of  them  was 
Slovatski ;  he  lay  in  a  corner,  and  he  was 
delirious. 

I  turned  to  the  other,  who  was  sitting  up, 
and  asked  where  we  were  going. 

"  Why,  to  the  infirmary  at  Yen-Bay ;  that 
is,  if  you  live  till  we  get  there." 

"  And  you  ?     Are  you  ill  too  ?  " 

"  No,  I  am  going  down  to  replace  a  fellow 
at  Than-Ba." 


58  TONQUIN   TALES 

"  And  is  there  no  escort  with  us?  Are  we 
three  alone  with  the  coolies?  " 

"  Yes,  quite  alone.  Are  you  afraid  of 
pirates?  " 

-No." 

Then  I  crept  over  and  looked  at  Slovatski ; 
he  was  unconscious.  I  put  my  hand  on  his 
head  and  felt  it  to  be  hot,  and  his  temples 
throbbed  under  my  fingers.  He  was  talking 
fast  and  furiously,  but  in  a  low  tone.  What 
he  said  was  in  Russian,  but  the  word  "  Minka  " 
recurring  often,  I  supposed  his  ravings  to 
be  of  the  past. 

"Is  he  going  to  die?"  I  asked  of  the 
other. 

"Yes,  it  looks  like  it." 

"  Can't  we  do  anything  for  him?  Did  the 
captain  send  no  medicine  with  us?  " 

"  No,  there  is  nothing  we  can  do  that  I 
know  of.  But  how  is  it  that  you  are  better? 
You  were  worse  than  he  when  we  started." 

"  I  don't  know;  I  suppose  it  is  the  motion 
of  the  junk  that  has  revived  me."  Poor 
Slovatski !  if  only  I  could  revive  him  !  I  got 
cold  tea  and  hot  wine  for  him,  but  could  not 
arouse  him  from  his  sleep. 

Alas,  that  we  grow  so  selfish  under  suffer 
ing  !  I  felt  —  I  knew  —  that  Slovatski  was 
dying,  and  for  my  life  I  could  not  care  much 
about  it.  So  many  had  died  ;  so  many  whom 


SLOVATSKI  59 

I  had  known  and  loved ;  and  now  one  more 
was  going,  that  was  all.  Yes,  if  I  could  have 
saved  him  by  any  possible  means  I  would 
gladly  have  done  it,  —  but  how? 

Since  then  I  have  thought  of  many  things 
I  might  have  tried,but  at  the  time  I  thought 
only  of  cold  tea  and  hot  wine,  and  why  either 
of  them  occurred  to  me  I  cannot  now  imagine  ; 
perhaps  my  head  was  still  muddled  from  the 
fever.  Poor  Slovatski !  his  heavy  breathing 
kept  time  with  the  noise  of  the  poles  with 
which  the  coolies  guided  the  junk ;  and  I  lay 
down  near  him  and  listened. 

As  we  approached  Ngoi-Thie  the  night 
came  on,  and  with  it  a  chill  wind;  so  I 
thought  I  would  lend  my  blanket  to  Slovatski. 
As  I  wrapped  it  around  his  feet  I  heard  him 
muttering  in  German.  "  What  is  it,  Slovatski? 
What  can  I  do  for  you?"  I  whispered. 

"O,  is  it  you  ?  "  he  gasped.  "  Say,  do  I  look 
like  him  now  ?  I  don't  look  like  him  now,  do  I  ?  " 

O,  so  eager  was  his  question  ! 

"  No,  O,  no  !  "  I  cried  ;  "  you  never  looked 
like  him;  how  could  you?  It  was  all  a 
mistake.  I  only  said  —  that  you  must  forget 
it.  Here  —  here  is  some  tea;  you  should 
like  tea,  being  a  Russian." 

But  before  I  could  get  it  he  began  to  rave 
again.  I  think  he  was  repeating  Russian 
poetry,  for  his  words  were  measured  and 


6o  TONQUIN   TALES 

rhythmical.  It  may  have  been  Pushkin's  verses 
which  he  was  reciting,  if  I  had  but  known. 

I  lay  down  again  and  listened.  I  was  cold 
without  my  blanket,  but  I  knew  Slovatski 
would  not  need  it  much  longer,  so  I  waited. 

Presently  the  motion  of  the  junk  ceased, 
and  on  calling  to  the  other  fellow,  I  found 
that  we  had  stopped  for  the  night  in  front  of 
Ngoi-Thie. 

"Shall  we  go  ashore?"  I  aslced. 

"  No ;  we  will  be  as  safe  and  comfortable 
where  we  are,"  he  said. 

Slovatski  went  on  breathing  heavily,  but 
with  more  and  more  difficulty;  now  that  the 
noise  of  the  boat's  motion  had  ceased  I 
could  hear  the  "  swish,  swish "  which  his 
breath  made  in  surging  between  his  closed 
teeth.  Sometimes  it  would  miss,  but  only  to 
begin  again  with  more  force. 

I  thought  I  would  go  to  sleep  for  a  while, 
feeling  sure  that  the  complete  stopping  of 
Slovatski's  breathing  would  awaken  me ;  I 
would  know  that  to  be  the  end,  and  —  I  could 
have  my  blanket  again  !  I  soon  fell  asleep, 
but  with  my  mind  full  of  Slovatski  I  began 
to  dream  of  him. 

I  was  still  asleep,  I  suppose,  but  suddenly 
I  grew  conscious,  as  I  thought,  of  some  one 
leaning  over  Slovatski,  —  some  one  holding 
a  lighted  candle.  Was  it  one  of  the  coolies? 


SLOVATSKI  6 1 

for  I  saw  long  black  hair  hanging  over  to 
the  floor ;  and  then  slowly  the  figure  turned, 
and  a  white  face,  very  beautiful,  looked  at 
me — a  Jewish  face!  Aye,  it  was  Minka ! 
But  when  I  sat  up  and  rubbed  my  eyes,  I 
saw  nothing,  —  only  Slovatski's  white  hand 
moving  vaguely  through  the  air. 

The  sound  of  his  breathing  was  no  longer 
audible,  so  I  crept  over  to  him  and  took  his 
hand  and  listened.  .  .  .  "  One  in  the  world 
is  enough,"  he  said.  "  One  of  us  is  enough." 
And  then  something  rattled  in  his  throat,  and 
Slovatski  was  dead. 

I  told  the  other  fellow,  but  he  only  grum 
bled  something^  angry  at  being  disturbed  for 
such  a  trifle. 

The  coolies  who  were  awake  burned  in 
cense  and  sweet-smelling  wood,  while  they 
murmured,  "  Shim,  shim  Buddha,  shim,  shim 
Buddha"  and  I  know  not  what  else,  all  in  a 
monotone.  For  me,  I  sat  there  quite  still, 
thinking. 

Slovatski's  journey  was  over ;  but,  alas  ! 
mine  must  continue;  so  gently  I  removed 
the  blanket  from  his  feet,  and  warmed  by  it 
I  was  soon  asleep. 


A   SPIRITUAL   COMBAT 


WE  always  called  her  "  Muo'i"  which  in 
the  Annamite  tongue  means  ten ;  and 
this  name  would  seem  to  indicate  that 
she  was  the  tenth  daughter  of  her  family, 
though,  in  fact,  few  Annamite  families  are  so 
numerous.  Muo'i  was  theatrical;  she  had 
lived  at  Ha-Noi,  where  she  had  learned  many 
wonderful  things.  The  reason  why  she  had 
left  the  Annamite  stage  was  a  secret,  guessed 
to  be  an  affair  of  the  heart  which  she  had 
had  with  a  French  officer,  since  dead.  I  dare 
say  this  rumor  was  true. 

She  always  wore  the  finest  and  gayest  of 
silk  garments,  of  which  she  had  somewhere 
and  somehow  gathered  a  great  variety.  At 
the  time  I  speak  of,  Muo'i  was  mistress  to  a 
civilian  functionary  in  the  Administration, 
but  she  had  very  loose  rein,  and  ran  about 
the  place  at  her  own  good  pleasure.  She 
was  no  way  beautiful,  but  she  was  always  so 
bright  and  fresh  looking,  and  had  such  soft, 
sweet  manners,  that  we  were  always  pleased 


A   SPIRITUAL   COMBAT  63 

to  meet  her ;  and  then  she  had  learned  and 
adopted  certain  European  customs  which  set 
her  apart  from  the  other  Kongois.  For  in 
stance,  although  she  smoked  cigarettes,  — 
many  European  ladies  do  that,  —  she  did  not 
smoke  the  Annamite  pipe,  nor  did  she  stain 
her  lips  by  chewing  betel.  Neither  were  her 
pretty  teeth  covered  with  black  enamel,  as 
according  to  Annamite  fashion  they  should 
have  been.  Probably  the  defunct  French 
officer  had  been  the  chief  factor  in  produc 
ing  such  result.  However,  we  all  found  that 
Muo'i  was  charming,  even  though  her  nose 
was  flat  and  her  eyes  were  oblique.  She  had 
learned  to  speak  French  fairly  well,  and  it 
was  amusing  to  hear  her  answer  grammat 
ically  when  we  would  address  her  in  the  jum 
ble  of  "  pigeon  French  "  best  understood  by 
the  natives.  Her  voice  was  not  musical 
according  to  our  ideas,  but  never  have  I 
heard  a  voice  so  soft  and  pleasing;  and  in 
this  she  was  not  unlike  other  Annamite 
women,  whose  tones  are  surprisingly  agree 
able  to  the  ear :  the  poorest  peasant  woman 
scarcely  speaks  above  a  whisper,  and  always 
of  birds,  yet  without  being  strictly  musical, 
in  a  soft,  purring,  twittering  way,  suggestive 
One  day  I  went  down  to  see  Muoi's  pro 
prietor,  and  found  him  fast  asleep  in  a  ham 
mock,  while  she,  at  a  little  distance,  was 


64  TONQUIN    TALES 

amusing  herself  with  a  sword  exercise,  which 
was  a  remembrance  from  her  past  theatrical 
experience.  I  held  my  breath ;  but  she  saw 
me,  and  glad  perhaps  of  a  spectator,  con 
tinued  with  fresh  vigor.  Such  a  sight  as  it 
was  !  O,  a  sight  to  be  remembered  forever  ! 
Of  course,  I  did  not  understand  it,  but  as  she 
went  on,  I  fitted  a  meaning  to  it  which 
seemed  to  apply  aptly  enough.  I  dare  say 
the  true  original  meaning  was  far  other ;  but 
of  true  art — and  this  was  the  truest  of  art 
—  who  will  restrict  or  limit  the  meanings? 
So  much  precision ;  such  an  exactitude  of 
motion.  Every  gesture,  every  thrust,  every 
stroke,  every  feint,  —  all  had  been  learned 
with  mechanical  accuracy,  and  she  now  per 
formed  them  with  a  vigor,  a  swiftness,  a  fire, 
a  fury,  which  fascinated  and  dazzled  me. 
But  what  did  it  mean?  With  what  or  whom 
was  Muoi  fencing?  With  a  shadow?  A 
spirit?  Yes,  so  at  least  I  understood  it. 
She  was  warring  with  an  evil  spirit.  Was  it 
perhaps  with  the  ghost  of  the  French  officer, 
her  whilom  lover?  How  her  sword  flew! 
O,  she  would  win,  I  saw  that,  in  the  pride 
and  courage  flashing  from  her  dark  eyes ! 
At  times,  after  a  heavy  stroke,  by  which  for 
an  instant  the  evil  spirit  was  beaten  back, 
Muoi  would  toss  her  sword  high  in  the  air, 
spring  and  catch  it  as  it  fell,  and  then 


A   SPIRITUAL   COMBAT          65 

flourish  it  triumphantly,  as  if  in  an  ecstasy  of 
conscious  superiority. 

And  then  I  wrongly  thought  the  end  had 
come.  She  redoubled  her  strokes,  she  made 
them  heavier ;  there  was  no  more  play,  no 
more  flourishes  ;  all  was  now  serious,  for  the 
spirit  must  be  vanquished.  No  trembling  in 
the  small  right  hand,  no  nervousness  in  any 
of  her  swift  movements  ;  and  yet  I  caught  my 
breath  lest  by  a  chance  she  should  fail ;  for 
all  idea  that  it  was  only  play  had  left  me,  and 
her  failure  would  have  distressed  me.  Faster 
and  faster  flew  her  sword,  till  at  last,  with  one 
great  wheeling  stroke,  she  seemed  to  win. 
Then  with  a  wild  laugh  of  triumph  she  cast 
her  sword  high  in  the  air,  nor  did  she  try  to 
catch  it  as  it  fell  ringing  to  the  floor. 

As  I  said,  I  thought  this  was  the  end ;  but 
not  so.  After  she  had  sat  for  an  instant, 
gazing  at  the  sword  which  lay  at  some  dis 
tance  from  her,  she  started  up,  uttering  a  sup 
pressed  cry  of  terror.  She  seized  the  sword 
and  recommenced  the  fight.  But,  whereas 
before  all  had  been  so  exact  and  accurate,  all 
was  now  hurried  and  nervous.  Now,  as  her 
strokes  fell  on  all  sides,  I  seemed  to  under 
stand  it.  Now  it  was  no  longer  one  shadow, 
one  spirit  with  which  she  had  to  fight,  but 
here  was  a  horde  of  evil  spirits.  All  the 
5 


66  TONQUIN    TALES 

haunting  memories,  all  the  black  shadows,  all 
the  dreadful  ghosts  from  out  her  past  life,  — 
there  they  were,  all  of  them,  all  in  armor 
before  her,  all  surging  and  raging  madly 
against  her.  It  was  noon  of  an  Asiatic  sum 
mer  day,  yet  I  saw  these  ghosts  distinctly, 
conjured  in  my  mind  as  they  were  by  the  art 
of  Muo'i's  movements. 

Her  sword,  as  she  sent  it  circling  through 
the  air,  might  keep  them  off  for  a  time;  but 
the  conflict,  bravely  and  courageously  as  she 
fought  it,  was  too  unequal ;  no  merely  human 
force  could  prevail  against  that  ghostly  army. 
O,  yes,  she  must  fail;  she  knew  it;  but  still 
she  kept  on,  with  a  wild  fear —  the  awful  ter 
ror  of  death  —  visible  in  her  ashy  face.  My 
excitement  grew  so  great  that  I  cried  aloud, 
for,  following  so  closely  with  my  eyes  the 
strokes  she  made,  I  became  gradually  con 
scious  that  her  chief  effort  was  made  against 
one  of  these  spirits,  the  one  who  was  bold 
est  and  strongest  of  the  throng ;  and  to  whom 
I  gave  the  name  of  Remorse.  Ah  !  let  her 
but  slay  him,  so  I  thought,  and  all  the  others 
will  fly  off.  But,  alas  !  she  lost  hope ;  she 
knew  she  must  fail,  and  the  knowledge  of  it 
unnerved  her  arm,  and  made  her  movements 
uncertain  and  faltering.  Then  came  the  end  ; 
her  long,  black  hair  became  unfastened  from 
the  baba  in  which  it  had  been  twisted,  and 


A   SPIRITUAL   COMBAT          67 

fell  in  thick,  straight  locks  down  to  her  knees ; 
this,  blinding  her,  and  checking  her  blow, 
ended  the  fray.  She  threw  back  her  hair 
with  her  left  arm,  and  stood  for  an  instant 
quite  unguarded.  Then  the  sword  of  Remorse 
struck  in  and  pierced  her  to  the  heart.  She 
shrieked  out  a  great  sobbing  cry,  dropped 
her  sword,  flung  wide  her  arms,  and  fell  for 
ward  on  her  face. 

In  a  minute  she  jumped  to  her  feet,  and, 
with  a  laugh  at  my  excited  expression,  went 
and  picked  up  her  sword.  She  was  pleased 
to  have  interested  me,  and  seemed  grateful 
when  I  complimented  her.  She  asked 
me  if  I  thought  the  ladies  of  France  could 
act  like  that ;  whereupon  I  assured  her  that 
the  "  divine  Sara  "  herself  was  not  equal  to 
anything  like  it;  but  Muoi  had  probably 
never  heard  Sara's  name  before,  so  she  did 
not  appreciate  the  extravagance  of  my  praise. 

And  then  I  came  away,  for  I  had  forgotten 
what  I  had  come  to  say  to  Muoi's  proprietor. 


THE    STORY    OF    YOUP-YOUP 

IT  was  in  the  year  1884,  and  already  Youp- 
Youp  was  past  the  prime  of  life.  She 
was  a  Kongo!',  that  is,  an  Annamite  woman ; 
but  she  was  frequently  called  ba'ia,  which 
means  "  old  woman."  She  was  one  of  the 
poor  people ;  her  ancestors  had  all  been 
coolies,  and  she  herself  had  been  a  cooly; 
but  now,  on  certain  days  of  the  week,  she 
would  sit  with  her  gossips  in  the  market 
place  to  sell  the  produce  of  a  small  garden, 
in  which  she  worked  on  the  other  days ;  she 
toiled  with  patient  industry,  yet  the  few  sa- 
piques  which  she  gained  were  scarcely  suffi 
cient  to  pay  for  the  rice  she  ate. 

Perhaps,  counting  by  time  rather  than  sor 
rows,  Youp-Youp  had  not  yet  lived  forty 
years ;  but  gray  hair,  wrinkles,  bent  form, 
and  palsied  movements  seemed  to  declare 
that  she  had  lived  for  ages  and  ages.  Such 
teeth  as  she  had  were  covered  with  black 
enamel,  and  the  habit  of  chewing  betel  did  not 
improve  her  appearance ;  her  eyes  had,  per- 


THE   STORY   OF   YOUP-YOUP     69 

haps,  never  been  very  large,  but  now  they 
were  so  concealed  by  wrinkles  that  unless  she 
were  astonished  or  frightened,  they  never  be 
came  visible.  Youp-Youp  is  what  she  was 
called,  but  in  her  youth  this  name  may  have 
been  modified  or  extended  by  family  or  sur 
name.  I  do  not  know  about  that. 

Now,  though  she  was  a  person  of  so  small 
estate,  of  such  insignificance,  the  story  of  her 
last  days  is  not  without  interest,  and  so  I  will 
tell  it  as  I  interpreted  from  the  scraps  of  it 
which  came  to  my  ears. 

Perhaps  I  ascribe  motives  to  Youp-Youp 
which  never  moved  her;  possibly  the  last  six 
years  have  altered  her  story,  and  the  facts  of 
it  may  have  been  quite  different  from  the  pres 
ent  account;  but  I  will  give  its  details,  which 
are  not  untrue  to  human  nature — human 
nature  which  finds  like  expressions  through 
out  the  world  —  in  Pekin  as  in  Paris. 

Youp-Youp  lived  at  Ngo'i'-Lao,  a  pleasant 
village  on  the  left  bank  of  the  Red  river,  a  few 
days'  journey  north  from  Ha-Noi.  The  cania 
(bamboo  cabin)  which  she  occupied  was 
clean  to  see,  and  the  small  garden  behind  it 
was  managed  with  provident  foresight :  before 
one  crop  was  reaped,  another  would  be  all 
ready  to  replace  it;  now  cucumbers,  anon 
tomatoes,  and  salad  all  the  year  round. 

Youp-Youp  had  long  outlived  her  family; 


70  TONQUIN   TALES 

one  by  one  her  husband  and  children  had 
been  taken  hence  by  cholera,  and  in  sign  of 
mourning,  the  baba,  or  turban,  which  she  wore 
on  her  head  was  white  instead  of  black.  I 
suppose  she  often  wondered  why  she  was 
left  to  such  a  cheerless  life  in  this  world,  why 
she  lived  on  after  all  whom  she  had  loved 
and  lived  for  were  taken.  When  the  past 
holds  few  joys,  and  the  future  offers  small 
hopes,  it  requires  much  courage  and  endur 
ance  to  live ;  still,  Youp-Youp  lived  on  like 
that  till  the  year  1884,  and  then  her  life 
became  eventful. 

At  the  village  of  Ngoi-Lao  it  was  told  by 
one  to  another  that  the  French  were  coming, 
—  the  French,  who  had  taken  all  the  chief 
cities  of  Tonquin,  were  now,  in  this  year  of 
1884,  laying  hold  of  the  towns  and  villages, 
and  would  soon  be  at  Ngo'i-Lao.  One  of 
the  most  effectual  means  of  opposition  prac 
tised  by  the  Annamites  in  small  places  was 
to  poison  the  wells,  burn  the  canias,  and 
having  destroyed  all  the  provisions  which 
they  could  not  carry,  to  run  away  into  the 
mountains,  whither  the  French  could  not 
follow  them.  This  indeed  was  a  negative 
sort  of  opposition,  yet  it  retarded  movements 
and  increased  the  difficulty  of  the  French 
invasion.  This  was  the  course  which  the 


THE   STORY   OF   YOUP-YOUP     71 

villagers  of  Ngoi'-Lao  proceeded  to  adopt. 
Youp-Youp  was  told  of  the  threatened  dan 
ger,  and  invited  to  go  to  the  mountains  with 
her  neighbors ;  but  she  chose  to  remain  — 
to  remain  and  take  her  chances  with  the 
French.  After  all,  the  French  could  only 
kill  her,  and  she  might  as  well  die  at  home 
as  in  the  mountains.  No  one  tried  to  dis 
suade  her,  for  in  questions  of  personal  safety 
little  thought  is  given  to  the  whims  of  an  old 
woman ;  so  when  all  her  neighbors  had  fled, 
Youp-Youp  sat  alone  in  her  house  and 
waited.  Whether  she  prayed  to  Buddha  and 
made  him  offerings,  or  whether  the  habits 
and  labors  of  her  life  had  left  her  brain  too 
dull  to  think  about  abstract  subjects,  is  all 
matter  which  may  go  unanswered.  The  fact 
is,  that  next  morning,  when  a  large  detach 
ment  of  French  soldiers  arrived  at  Ngoi-Lao, 
Youp-Youp  was  their  most  unselfish  bene 
factress.  They  came  worn  out  by  fatigue 
and  hunger,  wounds  and  sickness ;  and  if 
Youp-Youp  had  not  been  there  to  render  aid, 
few  of  them  had  ever  gone  much  farther. 
When  she  found  that  they  did  not  kill  her,  as 
she  expected, —  perhaps  hoped, —  she  at  once 
evinced  her  willingness  and  ability  to  help 
them.  She  got  clean  mats  for  them  to  lie  on, 
she  showed  them  the  one  well  which  had  not 
been  poisoned,  she  dressed  their  wounds,  she 


72  TONQUIN   TALES 

gave  them  her  rice, —  all  she  had, —  and  when 
they  would  return  her  any  signs  of  thank 
fulness,  she  would  wrinkle  up  her  face  and 
whisper,  "Oo-tia!  Link-tap  flancais  tot-lam, 
tot-lam!  "  (  Well !  well  !  French  soldiers 
very  good,  very  good  !  ) 

Time  passed,  and  the  story  of  Youp-Youp's 
ministrations  to  the  French  became  known 
and  talked  of  in  high  places,  and  the  result 
of  the  talk  was  that  the  French  government 
awarded  the  military  medal  to  Youp-Youp,  — 
a  decoration  which  entitles  the  owner  to  an 
annual  income  of  a  few  francs.  I  do  not 
suppose  Youp-Youp  ever  understood  it,  but 
now,  with  the  medal  and  the  pension,  she 
found  herself  to  have  become  an  important 
personage  in  the  land.  Ngo'i-Lao  was  in  a 
favorable  position,  and  the  French,  seeing 
this,  lost  no  time  in  establishing  a  military 
post  there ;  so  in  a  few  months  the  village 
was  rebuilt,  and  Annamites  who  had  made 
peace  with  the  French  came  from  other 
parts  to  live  there;  even  some  of  its  old 
inhabitants  came  back  from  the  mountains, 
and  these  were  certainly  surprised  to  find 
Youp-Youp  still  alive  and  even  prosperous. 

Now,  you  will  remember  that  Youp-Youp 
belonged  to  the  class  from  which  coolies  are 
taken,  that  she  had  been  a  cooly  herself,  and 


THE   STORY   OF   YOUP-YOUP     73 

albeit  that  she  still  shut  her  eyes  and 
whispered,  "  Link-tap  flancais  tot-lam,  tot- 
lam! "  she  must  often  have  had  a  different 
idea  when  she  saw  how  the  "  link-tap  flan 
cais  "  treated  the  coolies.  Did  she  never  say 
to  herself,  "  Link-tap  flancais  tsou-lam,  tsou- 
lam  "?  (French  soldier  very  bad.) 

The  Frenchman,  sick  and  worn  with 
fatigue,  is  quite  a  tender-hearted  person 
compared  with  the  Frenchman  healthy  and 
in  power.  Well,  but  the  French  had  paid 
her  for  her  kindness,  and  purchased  her 
favor;  and  at  first  it  was  with  a  childish 
pleasure,  almost  like  happiness,  that  she  wore 
her  military  medal.  In  sooth,  it  looked  out 
of  place,  pinned  to  her  coarse  brown  tunic; 
yet  she  wore  it  always,  at  first,  as  I  said, 
with  pleasure,  but  afterwards  with  shame  and 
chagrin.  Of  course,  it  was  jealousy  alone 
which  made  Youp-Youp's  neighbors  resent 
her  present  fortune ;  but  they  made  it  appear 
to  her,  by  daily  word  and  innuendo,  that  by 
having  helped  the  French,  she  had  helped 
the  oppressors  of  her  people ;  she,  whose 
fathers  and  forefathers  had  been  coolies,  had 
taken  sides  with  their  masters.  And  so 
shame  and  regret  were  on  the  underside  of 
her  life,  though  she  still  continued  to  whisper, 
"  Link-tap  flancais  tot-lam,  tot-lam!  " 


74  TONQUIN   TALES 

Farther  up  the  river  was  another  village, 
larger  and  more  prosperous  than  Ngoi-Lao. 
Youp-Youp  had  once  been  there  in  her 
youth,  and  still  had  a  remembrance  of  the 
large  market-place  and  the  great  pagoda. 

One  day  it  came  to  the  ears  of  her  under 
standing  that  the  French  were  going  up  to 
take  possession  of  this  village,  and  the  vil 
lagers  had  not  been  warned  of  it.  This  time 
it  was  intended  that  they  should  not  have 
time  to  run  away  to  the  mountains.  Here  is 
what  followed  :  the  morning  when  the  French 
arrived  at  the  village  gate,  the  form  of  an 
old  Annamite  woman  was  seen  crouching  be 
fore  it.  The  sun  had  not  arisen,  and  in  the 
obscurity  she  was  not  recognized.  They 
ordered  her  to  open  the  gate,  or  to  get  aside 
out  of  the  way;  she  did  neither,  and  so  some 
one  thrust  his  bayonet  into  her  back  and 
shoved  her  from  the  gate.  She  did  not  cry 
out ;  she  wrinkled  up  her  face,  and  whispered 
for  the  last  time,  "  Oo-tia!  Link-tap  flancais 
tot-lam,  tot  —  !  " 

But  again  she  struggled  to  her  knees,  and 
tore  something  from  the  breast  of  her  tunic 
and  threw  it  from  her  as  though  it  were  a 
coal  of  fire ;  it  was  the  military  medal,  for 
you  see  already  that  this  was  poor,  sad- 
hearted  old  Youp-Youp  whom  they  had 
killed.  No  one  knew  what  she  was  doing 


THE    STORY   OF   YOUP-YOUP     75 

there;  she  had  been  seen  at  Ngoi'-Lao  the 
day  before,  and  to  have  come  so  far  she 
must  have  walked  all  night  long. 

What  I  like  to  think  is  that  she  had  come 
with  the  intention  of  warning  the  villagers 
of  their  danger,  but  worn  out  with  fatigue, 
she  had  been  unable  to  open  the  gate  and 
accomplish  her  purpose. 


ECKERMANN  AND  TANNEMEYER 


WHAT  the  secret  between  these  two 
men  may  have  been  will  never  be 
known.  I  could  not  even  find  a  plausible 
theory  for  their  actions.  They  came  together 
for  the  first  time  in  their  lives  (so  much  my 
research  seemed  to  prove)  on  the  French 
transport  ship  "  Colombo,"  out  from  Oran 
with  soldiers  for  Tonquin.  They  came  from 
different  regiments  of  the  Foreign  Legion, 
and  by  some  mistake  they  were  quartered 
near  each  other  on  the  ship ;  still,  never  was 
any  acquaintance  formed  between  them. 
With  the  rest  of  us  they  were  both  friendly 
and  pleasant  companions,  but  towards  each 
other  they  were  silent  and  unconscious;  so 
much  so  that  I  and  some  others  began  to 
speak  of  it.  Why  did  they  ignore  each 
other,  we  asked ;  for  come  to  question  them 
separately  about  themselves,  we  learned  that 
they  were  both  from  the  same  city  in  Bavaria. 
Then  we  supposed  they  were  members  of 
some  secret  society,  the  incomprehensible 


ECKERMANN  AND  TANNEMEYER  77 

rules  of  which  they  were  observing.  So  we 
laid  traps  for  them,  that  we  might  discover  if 
this  were  the  case ;  but  no,  not  at  all.  In  the 
course  of  a  week  I  became  very  friendly  with 
each  of  them,  and  tried  several  times  to  bring 
them  together  in  conversation ;  but  I  never 
succeeded.  Anon,  by  quoting  the  sayings 
of  one  to  the  other  I  hoped  to  arouse  their 
curiosity  in  each  other.  They  were  both 
musical,  and  from  Tannemeyer  I  learned  a 
number  of  Bavarian  folk-songs.  Speaking  of 
these  to  Eckermann,  his  interest  flamed  up, 
and  eagerly  he  asked  me  if  I  knew  any  more, 
and  where  I  had  learned  them.  "  Why,  I 
learned  them  from  Tannemeyer,"  I  said. 
"  He  has  a  long  repertoire  of  them."  Hear 
ing  this,  Eckermann  became  as  cold  as  a  fish, 
and  took  no  further  interest  in  Bavarian  folk 
songs. 

Tannemeyer  was  constantly  trying  to 
sketch ;  he  had  a  passionate  longing  to  learn 
how  to  draw,  and  pencil  and  paper  were  never 
long  out  of  his  hands ;  but  for  all  his  effort 
there  was  ever  something  wrong  with  his 
drawings.  He  knew  it  and  sighed. 

Then  one  day  while  I  talked  with  Ecker 
mann,  he  took  from  his  pocket  a  small  note 
book  to  illustrate  the  point  in  question ;  a 
quick  stroke  or  two  of  his  pencil  showed  me 
that  he  was  a  clever  draughtsman. 


78  TONQUIN   TALES 

"  Hallo  !  "  I  said,  "  where  did  you  learn  to 
draw?" 

"  At  Munich,"  he  answered.     "  Why  ?  " 

"O,  nothing  much;  but  will  you  lend  me 
your  note-book?"  I  saw  it  was  nearly  full 
of  very  beautiful  drawings. 

"  Well,"  he  said,  "  my  sketches  are  not  for 
show,  and  I  have  some  things  written  in  my 
note-book,  so  I  "  — 

"  But  I  will  not  show  your  book  to  any 
one,  except  to  two  or  three  of  my  friends. 
Nor  shall  I  or  any  one  read  a  word  of  it."  I 
felt  as  if  I  were  playing  him  a  trick,  for  I  saw 
he  did  not  suspect  that  one  of  my  "friends" 
was  Tannemeyer. 

Still  I  must  see  whether  these  drawings 
would  leave  Tannemeyer  as  cold  as  the  folk 
songs  had  left  Eckermann.  It  was  quite  the 
same. 

At  first  Tannemeyer  glowed  with  enthusi 
asm.  Had  I  made  these  sketches?  and 
would  I  lend  him  the  book  to  copy  them? 
and  would  I  teach  him  how  to  draw? 

"But  these  are  not  mine,"  I  said.  "I 
could  not  make  a  line  of  them." 

"Whose,  then?  Whose  are  they?"  he 
exclaimed. 

"They  are  Eckermann's,"  I  answered,  as 
naturally  as  I  could." 

"  O,"  he  said,  and  handed  me  back  the 
note-book. 


ECKERMANN  AND  TANNEMEYER    79 

"  But  I  am  sure,"  I  went  on,  "  that  he  will 
be  glad  to  lend  you  his  book,  or  to  give  you 
lessons ;  he  is  a  genuine  good  fellow  is  Eck- 
ermann.  By  the  way,  why  do  you  never 
talk  to  him?  He  comes  from  your  country; 
you'd  be  sure  to  find  him  very  amusing." 

"  O,  thank  you;  you  are  very  kind;  but 
please  give  him  his  note-book,  and  do  not 
say  you  showed  it  to  me." 

"But  why?  Why  not?"  I  insisted; 
"  What  in  the  name  of  commonsense  is  the 
matter  with  you  two,  that  you  must  treat 
each  other  in  this  absurd  way?  " 

I  saw  I  had  pained  him  by  my  question, 
and  I  began  to  apologize,  but  he  hushed  me 
up  saying: 

"  Really  I  do  not  know  in  the  least  what  it 
is  that  is  between  us ;  I  have  tried  already  to 
overcome  it,  but  I  could  not.  One  cannot 
mix  oil  and  vinegar,  you  know,  —  perhaps 
we  are  like  that." 

"  But  have  you  never  spoken  with  each 
other?  Have  you  never  tried  to  overcome 
this  antipathy?" 

"  My  dear  man,  there  is  no  antipathy,  as 
you  call  it ;  it  is  not  that,  nor  is  it  any  lack 
of  sympathy,  either.  I  tell  you  again  I  do 
not  know  what  it  is.  Whenever  I  try  to 
analyze  my  feelings  for  Eckermann,  I  grow 
faint,  I  begin  to  shudder ;  in  fact,  I  cannot 


8o  TONQUIN   TALES 

fix  my  thoughts  on  him  for  any  length  of 
time.  Never  have  I  spoken  to  him,  nor  he 
to  me ;  and  never  have  I  spoken  of  him 
before.  If  you  will  oblige  me,  please  do  not 
let  us  mention  him  again." 

"  But  —  well,  forgive  me,  I  have  been  in 
discreet.  I  see  it.  Still,  my  reasons  were 
neither  selfish  nor  idle.  I  simply  wanted  to 
bring  two  good  fellows  together,  that  they 
might  find  the  time  less  heavy.  Will  you 
forgive  me  ?  " 

"  O,  certainly,"  he  cried;  "it  is  rather  I 
who  should  claim  your  forgiveness  for  my 
unreasonable  whim,  as  it  must  appear  to 
you." 

"  Not  at  all,"  I  expostulated.  "  I  can 
quite  understand  that  it  is  no  fault  of  the 
oil  that  it  cannot  mix  with  the  vinegar,  and 
if  I  have  failed  to  find  a  vehicle,  I  must  eat 
my  salad  without  a  dressing,  that  is  all. 
But,"  regretfully,  "I  would  have  delighted 
in  having  brought  you  two  together.  I  am 
sure  the  conjunction  would  have  been  delec 
table  for  the  rest  of  us." 

I  do  not  think  Tannemeyer  understood 
me;  he  stared  blankly,  and  sauntered 
away. 

The  ship  sailed  on. 

At  Obok  —  or  was  it  Aden  ?  —  we  stopped 
to  take  on  coal,  and  some  of  the  natives 


ECKERMANN  AND  TANNEMEYER  81 

came  on  board  to  sell  fruit  and  other 
merchandise;  but  owing  to  a  lack  of  money 
among  us,  the  commerce  was  slow.  We 
had  nothing  but  our  pay  usually,  and  that 
hardly  sufficed  to  furnish  tobacco. 

Latterly  I  had  lost  interest  in  the  mystery 
of  Eckermann  and  Tannemeyer,  or  rather 
my  attention  had  been  given  elsewhere  and 
I  had  not  thought  about  them.  Now,  among 
these  venders  of  fruit  three  fakirs  had  come 
on  board,  bringing  charmed  snakes  and 
other  odds  and  ends  of  their  profession. 
With  these  they  sat  in  a  corner  of  the  deck 
and  began  to  juggle. 

In  their  strange  raiment  and  with  their 
dramatic  gestures  they  formed  a  picturesque 
group. 

A  crowd  soon  circled  around  them  ;  I  ap 
proached  late  and  had  to  remain  on  the  out 
skirts  of  it,  but  there  I  saw  what  was  more 
interesting  to  me  than  all  the  tricks  of  the 
snakes  and  the  fakirs :  there  was  Eckermann 
rapidly  making  a  sketch  of  the  group,  and 
at  two  steps  behind  him  stood  Tannemeyer 
gazing  over  his  shoulder  with  his  soul  in  his 
eyes;  he  was  trembling,  and  his  fingers 
clasped  and  unclasped.  I  thought  at  first  he 
was  looking  at  the  snakes ;  but  no,  it  was  at 
Eckermann's  work  he  was  gazing.  Suddenly 
his  face  grew  white,  and  he  stumbled  over 

6 


82  TONQUIN   TALES 

to  the  taffrail,  gasping  for  breath.  Uncon 
sciously  Eckermann  went  on  sketching.  In  a 
minute  I  went  up  to  Tannemeyer  and  said : 
"  You  look  ill.  Do  you  suppose  you  have 
a  fever?"  He  looked  beyond  me  for  an 
instant,  and  then  with  a  visible  effort  he 
dragged  his  thoughts  back  to  the  present  and 
said,  -What?" 

I  repeated  my  question.  ''Are  you  not 
well?" 

"O,  yes,  I'm  all  right;  why?" 

"  O,  nothing;  you  look  somewhat  pale, 
that  is  all." 

I  felt  somewhat  ridiculous.  I  had  hoped 
that  he  would  have  told  me  about  the  scene 
I  had  witnessed ;  but  no,  he  made  no  men 
tion  of  it.  Presently  out  came  his  pencil 
and  paper  and  he  began  to  sketch,  so  I 
moved  away.  Then  on  repassing,  a  moment 
or  two  afterwards,  I  saw  on  Tannemeyer's 
paper  the  very  scene  which  Eckermann  had 
sketched  :  the  three  fakirs  juggling  with  their 
snakes.  This  time  there  was  nothing  wrong 
in  Tannemeyer's  drawing. 

I  ran  to  Eckermann.  "A  moment!"  I  ex 
claimed.  "  Please  let  me  see  the  sketch  you 
have  just  made,  only  for  a  moment."  He 
looked  at  me  in  surprise,  but  he  gave  it  to 
me.  I  ran  back  to  Tannemeyer  and  begged 
him  for  his  sketch,  and  he  gave  it  to  me. 


ECKERMANN  AND  TANNEMEYER  83 

Then,  tremblingly,  I  compared  them ;  they 
were  marvellously  alike ;  no  one  could  say 
that  both  were  not  the  work  of  the  same 
hand. 

I  turned  and  showed  them  to  Tannemeyer, 
and  he  —  fainted. 

I  saw  him  falling,  and  as  I  sprang  to  catch 
him  I  dropped  the  sketches.  With  the  help 
of  a  comrade  I  got  Tannemeyer  down  to  the 
doctor's  room  and  there  I  left  him.  I  hurried 
back  to  find  the  sketches,  but  one  of  them  — 
Tannemeyer's  —  was  lost.  Some  of  the 
sailors  were  looking  at  the  other.  I  claimed 
it  and  brought  it  back  to  Eckermann,  and 
told  him  the  whole  circumstance. 

He  listened  in  silence,  and  when  I  had  fin 
ished  he  said :  "  How  long  will  it  be  before 
we  reach  Colombo,  do  you  suppose?"  I 
looked  at  him  in  wonder.  "  I  don't  know," 
I  said ;  "  but  why?  What  makes  you  ask  such 
an  irrelevant  question  after  what  I  have  just 
told  you  ?  " 

"Well,  what  shall  I  say,  then?  Shall  we 
talk  about  the  weather?" 

I  was  rebuked  again.  "  Forgive  me,"  I 
said,  "  some  time  I  may  learn  to  mind  my 
own  business." 

"  O,  don't  mention  it,"  he  returned,  and 
then  seeing  that  he  was  pale  and  nervous,  I 
left  him. 


84  TONQUIN   TALES 

Returning  that  way  shortly  after,  I  saw  him 
gazing  abstractedly  at  his  sketch. 

Next  day  we  heard  that  Tannemeyer  was  ill 
of  a  fever  and  was  quartered  in  the  ship's 
hospital. 

And  the  ship  sailed  on. 

Whenever  I  tried  to  talk  to  Eckermann 
after  that  he  seemed  absent-minded  and  un 
interested,  so  it  came  to  pass  that  our  friend 
ship  waned. 

Occasionally  I  asked  for  news  of  Tanne 
meyer,  and  heard  that  he  was  improving  in 
health. 

We  had  reached  Colombo  at  last,  and  had 
stopped  again  for  coal.  As  I  stood  at  the 
taffrail  watching  the  strange  scenery  a  famil 
iar  voice  greeted  me,  and  there  at  my  elbow 
was  Tannemeyer. 

"  Grilss  Gott!  Tannemeyer,"  I  cried. 
"Are  you  better?  I  rejoice  to  see  you  on 
deck."  Yes,  he  was  quite  well  again  and 
glad  to  be  out  of  the  hospital. 

As  we  stood  there  talking  a  crowd  of  na 
tives  came  swimming  up,  and  crying  as  they 
swam:  "A  la  mer!  A  la  mer!"  Then  a 
throng  of  soldiers  and  sailors  ran  over  to 
where  we  were  standing  and  began  to  throw 
pennies  into  the  water,  whereupon  these 
natives  would  dive  after  them  and  fetch  them 
up  between  rows  of  gleaming  teeth. 


ECKERMANN  AND  TANNEMEYER  85 

Tannemeyer  had  his  hand  on  the  taffrail, 
and  in  the  crowd  another  hand  had  been  laid 
upon  it.  As  though  this  other  hand  had 
been  a  coal  of  fire  Tannemeyer  whipped  his 
hand  away  and  stood  trembling.  Yes,  it  was 
Eckermann  who  had  touched  him  quite  inad 
vertently. 

Tannemeyer  went  back  to  the  hospital  and 
remained  there  for  the  rest  of  the  voyage. 
Even  at  Saigon,  where  we  sojourned  for 
several  days,  he  did  not  appear,  so  I  began 
to  forget  both  him  and  Eckermann. 

Thus  far  our  passage  had  been  calm  and 
pleasant ;  no  storms,  and  even  the  heat  had 
not  been  as  great  as  we  expected.  But  now, 
on  entering  the  China  Sea,  rough  weather 
began,  so  we  remained  much  of  the  time 
below  decks.  As  we  coasted  up  along 
Annam  we  were  able  to  see  land  nearly  all 
of  the  way.  I  think  we  stopped  at  Hue,  but 
I  can  remember  nothing  of  it,  not  having 
been  able  to  go  ashore. 

Soon  we  reached  Hai-Phong,  where  we 
disembarked  from  the  big  "  Colombo  "  and 
boarded  a  small  river  steamer.  Here  I  saw 
Eckermann  and  Tannemeyer  again.  I  no 
ticed  that  they  still  held  aloof  from  each 
other,  but  my  interest  in  my  new  surround 
ings  was  so  great  that  I  thought  of  little  else. 
I  was  taken  up  with  trying  to  learn  a  vocabu- 


86  TONQUIN   TALES 

lary  of  Annamite  words  and  phrases  so  as 
better  to  understand  what  I  saw  and  heard. 

Eventually,  through  artificial  canals  and 
natural  streams  we  entered  the  Red  river, 
or  the  Song-Kdi,  as  it  is  called,  and  came  rap 
idly  up  to  Ha-No'i,  where  many  of  us  were 
to  remain.  I  expected  Tannemeyer  would 
have  to  stop  there;  but  no,  although  he 
belonged  to  another  regiment  in  Algeria,  and 
would  naturally  be  sent  to  a  different  district 
here,  still  by  some  most  curious  oversight,  or 
strange  fatality,  he  was  still  with  us.  At  Son- 
Tay,  then,  perhaps  he  would  be  changed  ;  but 
not  so,  he  was  with  us  for  good,  it  seemed. 
Well,  I  was  glad,  for  I  thought  that  if  he  and 
Eckermann  remained  together,  some  expla 
nation  of  their  actions  toward  each  other 
might  result.  But  seldom  now  did  my  mind 
dwell  on  anything  but  the  unfamiliar  beauty 
of  the  country  and  the  incomprehensible 
chatter  of  the  natives,  many  of  whom  were 
with  us  on  the  boat  acting  as  engineers,  cooks, 
pilots,  etc. 

Chinamen,  too,  were  there  as  clerks  and 
officers.  These  wore  very  wonderful  garments. 
Somehow  I  had  got  away  from  the  common 
place  things  of  life,  and,  yes,  there  were 
stranger  things  in  the  world  than  the  little 
mystery  I  had  been  studying. 

It  was  in  the   dry  season  of  the  year,  and 


ECKERMANN  AND  TANNEMEYER    87 

when  we  had  reached  Ba-Cat-Hat,  —  or  Vie- 
Trie,  as  it  is  now  called,  — just  where  the  Lo- 
Ciang  empties  into  the  Song-Koi,  we  could 
go  no  farther  by  boat ;  already  we  had  been 
stuck  fast  in  the  bed  of  the  river  more  than 
once.  So  to  Hong-Hoa  we  must  go  afoot, 
and  there  we  would  be  directed  to  the  vari 
ous  posts  we  were  to  occupy.  Ah,  after 
nine  long  weeks  of  sea  voyage  we  were  joyful 
to  be  able  to  march,  in  such  weather,  through 
such  a  country. 

Well,  whom  'should  I  go  with?  Luick  and 
Rcebke  had  gone  off  together,  and  Siegfried 
was  starting  with  Haas.  While  I  stood  hesi 
tating,  Tannemeyer  came  along  and  proposed 
that  he  and  I  should  march  together,  help 
each  other  over  streams  and  bogs,  etc.  I 
had  a  misgiving  at  first ;  I  would  rather  have 
gone  with  Eckermann. 

I  always  felt  there  was  something  uncanny 
about  Tannemeyer  ever  since  he  had  made 
the  sketch. 

Eckermann  was  a  strong,  handsome  fellow, 
with  a  quick  perception,  so  that  he  could 
always  grasp  my  meaning  before  I  spoke  it, 
—  nay,  better  than  I  could  speak  it,  for  my 
tongue  often  blundered  over  German  gen 
ders.  Tannemeyer  was  slower  of  compre 
hension,  I  thought,  and  his  conversation  was 
not  easy  to  follow;  this  was  owing  to  a 


88  TONQUIN   TALES 

peculiar  accent  and  to  a  way  he  had  of  letting 
the  final  word  or  syllable  die  on  his  tongue 
unuttered.  He  had  a  well-featured  face,  but 
a  look  of  great  sadness  gleamed  in  his  dark, 
melancholy  eyes. 

I  was  somewhat  surprised  when  he  pro 
posed  to  march  with  me,  for  since  his  second 
illness  I  had  seldom  spoken  with  him.  I  am 
afraid  I  did  not  express  much  pleasure  in  my 
voice  nor  in  my  glance  when  I  acceded  to 
his  proposal,  for  he  noticed  it  and  made  as  if 
to  draw  back ;  but  with  as  much  sugar  on  my 
tongue  as  I  could  collect  I  begged  him  to 
march  with  me,  saying  we  would  go  fa 
mously  together;  and  so  we  did. 

Never  can  I  forget  the  charm  of  his  com 
panionship  on  that  march.  His  mind  opened 
and  expanded  under  the  influence  of  our 
surroundings,  and  it  revealed  to  me  deli 
cacies  and  beauties  I  had  never  known. 
Wherever  had  he  learned  this  subtile  tact, 
this  forgetfulness  of  self,  this  exquisite 
manner?  He  had  mystified  me  on  the  ship, 
but  now  he  dazzled  me.  He  knew  my 
moods  by  intuition,  —  when  to  be  silent  and 
when  to  speak;  what  to  say  and  what  to 
keep  from  saying.  I  saw  the  wonders  of 
the  landscape,  but  he  put  them  into  words 
for  me  so  that  I  not  only  saw,  but  felt. 

There   were   strange   birds    singing  in  the 


ECKERMANN  AND  TANNEMEYER  89 

thickets,  wild  new  tunes  I  had  never  heard 
before ;  and  then  Tannemeyer  would  sing  an 
echo  of  their  music  till  my  heart  leaped  and 
thrilled  to  hear  him. 

What!  I  asked.  Was  this  a  German? 
Surely  not;  only  one  of  the  Latin  race  could 
disclose  so  complex  a  character.  I  asked 
him  about  it;  was  he  indeed  a  Bavarian?  a 
Baier?  Yes,  for  three  generations  his  people 
had  lived  in  Munich.  But  before  that?  He 
did  not  know  —  he  had  never  thought  to 
ask.  Why?  "Because  I  am  trying  to  find 
a  key  to  your  character,"  I  said.  He  looked 
at  me  in  a  surprised  manner,  wondering  per 
haps  what  was  unusual  in  his  character  that 
it  needed  a  key. 

But  already  the  walls  of  Hong-Hoa  were 
in  sight,  and  the  enthusiasm  of  his  manner 
abated  perceptibly. 

Once  more  he  was  the  Tannemeyer  of  the 
ship.  But  the  beauty  of  the  country  through 
which  we  had  come  and  the  fascination  of 
his  companionship  had  made  an  impression 
on  my  mind  which  years  could  not  efface. 

At  Hong-Hoa  we  remained  several  days 
exchanging  our  Algerian  uniforms  for  those 
of  Tonquin. 

Here  I  met  some  old  comrades  from 
Saida,  so  the  time  passed  quickly  with  new 
experiences  each  day.  Would  we  go  and 


90  TONQUIN   TALES 

drink  tschum-tschum  ?  Would  we  smoke 
opium,  — or  the  Annamite  pipe?  Would  we 
ride  in  a  pousse-pousse,  and  take  tea  in  an 
Annamite  kitchen?  Oh,  there  were  countless 
things  we  might  do.  But  the  days  passed, 
and  we  who  had  just  arrived  must  proceed 
farther  up  the  river.  As  far  as  Cam-Khe 
we  went,  and  there  we  had  to  separate,  some 
going  to  one  post,  and  some  to  another. 
Most  of  us  were  for  the  same  company,  and 
we  would  probably  meet  again ;  nay,  as  we 
were  all  of  us  to  be  along  the  river,  we  would 
probably  meet  again,  so  no  one  thought 
much  of  the  separation.  About  half  of  our 
number  were  to  remain  in  the  vicinity  of 
Cam-Khe  and  the  rest  of  us  started  on, 
Eckermann  and  Tannemeyer  still  with  us. 
But  Tannemeyer,  it  seemed,  was  to  cross  the 
river  directly.  He  with  a  dozen  others  was 
to  reenforce  the  post  of  Than-Ba. 

We  came  to  the  junk  which  was  to  ferry 
them  over;  already  some  were  aboard,  and 
Tannemeyer  was  waiting  for  his  turn.  Then 
suddenly  he  dropped  his  rifle,  gave  a  wild, 
hoarse  cry,  and  came  running  back.  Ecker 
mann  saw  him  coming  towards  him,  stumbling 
as  he  ran,  and  he  understood.  His  lips 
parted  too  as  if  to  cry  out,  and  in  an  in 
stant  they  were  sobbing  on  each  other's 
necks.  Such  a  passion  of  love,  despair,  and 


ECKERMANN  AND  TANNEMEYER    91 

anguish,  please  God,  may  I  never  see ;  two 
strong  men  between  whom  never  a  word  of 
friendship  or  affection  had  passed  were  now 
delirious  with  grief  at  the  thought  of  separa 
tion.  It  was  more  than  I  could  bear  to 
see :  I  turned  away  to  hide  my  own  tears. 
It  was  soon  over.  Before  the  surprise  caused 
by  this  scene  was  passed,  Tannemeyer  was 
in  the  junk  and  off  from  shore. 

There  was  the  suspicion  of  a  laugh  in  the 
air,  and  the  certainty  of  curious  comment, 
and  questions  from  the  comrades  ;  so  before 
anything  of  this  sort  could  happen  I  ran  up 
to  Eckermann  and  began  to  talk  to  him 
soothingly  of  indifferent  things,  giving  him  no 
time  to  answer  me,  and  leaving  no  chance 
for  the  others  to  break  in  with  questions  ;  nay, 
most  of  them  had  tact  enough  to  look  aside 
and  see  nothing ;  but  I  gabbled  on,  flying 
from  one  subject  to  another,  till  Eckermann 
had  recovered  his  mind  from  the  ordeal  it  had 
just  been  through.  He  understood  my 
motive,  and  thanked  me  with  his  eyes.  By 
my  presence  of  mind  I  had  saved  him  from 
questions  and  ridicule,  and  he  was  grateful. 
Of  course  if  I  could  have  done  it  in  some 
other  way,  and  left  him  alone  with  his 
emotion,  it  would  have  been  better. 

All  this  time  I  was  burning  to  question 
him  myself,  but  by  an  effort  I  refrained, 


92  TONQUIN   TALES 

hoping  that  he  would  confide  in  me.  Once 
he  stopped  and  looked  me  in  the  eyes.  I 
was  sure  he  was  about  to  speak. 

As  well  as  I  could  I  expressed  sympathy 
and  understanding  in  a  glance,  but  he  sighed 
deeply  and  went  on. 

I  had  been  weighed  in  the  balance  and 
found  wanting.  He  could  not  tell  me  what 
was  on  his  mind,  so  I  did  not  vex  him  by 
asking.  During  the  rest  of  the  way  to  Yen- 
Luong,  where  I  was  to  remain,  he  and  I 
marched  together.  He  chose  it  so.  I  en 
joyed  his  company  in  a  measure,  and  would 
have  enjoyed  it  more  had  he  not  been  so 
absent-minded ;  hitherto  he  had  been  quick 
and  alert  of  thought,  but  now  while  speaking 
his  mind  would  wander  and  he  would  forget 
what  he  had  started  to  say.  I  knew  very 
well  that  all  his  thoughts  were  of  Tannemeyer, 
but  by  no  sign  did  I  show  that  I  knew  it,  nor 
did  I  mention  Tannemeyer  to  him. 

I  have  since  regretted  this,  and  I  wish  I 
had  been  less  delicate  in  the  matter,  even 
at  the  risk  of  giving  offence.  Some  light 
might  have  resulted  ;  something  might 
have  prevented  the  outcome  of  the  affair 
which  was  stranger  than  all  that  had  gone 
before. 

We  reached  Yen-Luong  at  last,  and  there 
I  parted  with  Eckermann ;  he  went  on  to 


ECKERMANN  AND  TANNEMEYER  93 

Yen-Bay,  the  next  port,  where  he  was  to  be 
quartered. 

For  a  month  or  longer  I  remained  at  Yen- 
Luong  before  anything  happened.  Some 
of  us  fell  sick  with  the  fever,  but  I  had  no 
time  for  that;  I  was  too  busy  studying  the 
ways  of  the  country. 

Then  it  was  reported  that  the  Governor- 
General,  M.  de  Lanassan,  was  making  a  tour 
of  the  posts.  Already  he  was  at  Cam-Khe  and 
would  soon  arrive  at  Yen-Luong.  It  made 
a  stir  in  the  air  when  this  news  was  told,  but 
the  excitement  did  not  touch  me,  — no,  a 
French  dignitary  might  be  seen  in  any  place  at 
any  time ;  but  a  genuine  Annamite  dignitary, 
with  his  umbrellas  and  his  palanquin,  —  a 
ton-doctor  example, — would  be  something 
worth  seeing.  Well,  but  M.  de  Lanassan  would 
have  Annamite  personages  in  his  suite,  it  was 
said.  O,  in  that  case  I  was  open  to  enthu 
siasm. 

So  he  arrived,  this  governor-general,  and 
he  complimented  us  on  the  order  and  clean 
liness  of  our  post;  and  then — God  bless  his 
kind  heart !  —  he  commanded  extra  wine  and 
tafia  for  us. 

A  frowzy-headed  little  man  as  I  recall  him, 
with  a  pleasant  manner  of  speech.  We  had 
been  instructed  in  the  manner  of  saluting 
him,  with  his  proper  title,  and  so  on,  and  we 


94  TONQUIN   TALES 

were  warned  that  all  deference  was  his  due. 
But  military  men  have  a  way  of  regarding  all 
civilians,  even  the  highest,  in  a  condescending, 
half-contemptuous  way ;  and  taking  the  cue 
from  our  officers  we  were  no  way  over 
whelmed  by  his  presence  among  us.  Had 
he  been  a  military  general  now,  we  would 
have  given  him  a  different  reception.  The 
French  soldiery  of  Tonquin  is  piqued  and 
jealous  that  there  should  not  be  a  military 
government  there,  as  in  Algeria  ;  consequently 
there  is  a  lack  of  unity  and  sympathy  in  the 
land.  I  saw,  it  is  true,  only  a  shadow  of  this  ; 
but  there  must  be  a  substance  in  order  to 
cast  a  shadow. 

Before  this  governor-general  left  us,  we 
heard  rumors  of  a  band  of  pirates  having 
been  seen  farther  up  the  river;  so  our  cap 
tain  deemed  it  wise  to  send  some  of  us  with 
him  for  an  extra  escort  in  case  of  an  attack. 

I  was  elated  over  this,  for  I  should  thus 
see  some  of  the  comrades  at  the  other  posts. 

At  Yen-Bay  my  first  question  was  for 
Eckermann.  Even  as  I  spoke  his  name  I  saw 
him  running  toward  me.  All  his  bearing  was 
joyful ;  indeed,  he  was  radiant,  not  alone  in 
his  white  uniform,  but  in  his  face  and 
manner.  Ah,  this  new  life,  so  strange  and 
enchanting,  who  would  not  be  pleased  by  it? 
What,  sickness?  fever?  O,  no  indeed;  not 


ECKERMANN  AND  TANNEMEYER  95 

he,  —  and  in  a  week  or  so  there  would  be 
pirate-hunting,  with  tigers  thrown  in  !  What 
more  charming  life  could  any  one  desire? 
True,  there  was  a  sad  side  to  it.  So  many 
good  comrades  dying  and  being  killed ;  but 
death  had  to  come  some  time,  so  better  die 
here  than  in  one's  bed  at  home. 

"  Have  you  heard  anything  from  the 
others?  "  I  began. 

"  Only  that  Haas  was  drowned,  and  that 
Pillerel  has  been  killed  by  sunstroke." 

"  Have  you  never  heard  any  word  from 
Tannemeyer?"  I  asked. 

"No  ;  what  of  him?  quick  !  "  and  all  Eck- 
ermann's  manner  changed,  his  face  turned 
pale. 

"  O,  nothing;  I  know  of  nothing,"  I  an 
swered,  indifferently.  "  I  guess  he's  all  right. 
Drosz  was  up  from  Than-Ba  last  week,  and 
he  reported  all  well ;  we  would  have  heard  if 
it  were  otherwise.  But  say,  has  Tannemeyer 
never  written  to  you  ?  " 

"No." 

"Nor  you  to  him?" 

"No." 

Then  Eckermann  grew  sombre,  and  I 
spoke  of  something  else. 

Next  day  we  continued  our  journey,  the 
governor  and  his  party  in  a  chaloupe,  and  we 
following  in  Chinese  junks.  The  scenery  as 


96  TONQUIN   TALES 

we  ascended  became  wilder  and  more  pict 
uresque,  and  I  longed  to  have  Tannemeyer 
with  me  that  he  might  interpret  it.  What 
glowing  thoughts  it  would  have  brought  to 
his  mind  !  With  what  gorgeous  sentences  he 
would  have  described  it !  And  I  —  I  was 
not  quite  blind  to  it,  only  it  oppressed  me, 
and  I  wearied  of  it,  and  desired  to  return  to 
commonplace  sights. 

We  went  as  far  as  Trai-Hut  and  then 
returned.  As  we  halted  at  Yen-Bay  on  our 
way  back,  I  resolved  to  have  an  understand 
ing  with  Eckermann.  Yes,  I  would  beg  him 
to  give  me  a  kind  message  for  Tannemeyer, 
whom  I  should  probably  see  on  my  way 
down  the  river.  I  went  up  to  the  casern  and 
called  out:  "  Halloo  !  Eckermann,  where  are 
you?"  I  was  in  a  hurry,  for  we  had  only  an 
hourto  stay.  " Eckermann  !  "  I  cried.  "Where's 
Eckermann?"  I  looked  at  the  comrades  who 
stood  stupidly  staring  at  me.  "  Where  is 
he?"  I  demanded.  "  Can't  one  of  you  tell 
me  where  he  is?"  I  read  fear  and  conster 
nation  in  their  faces.  Then  one  who  had 
yellow  hair  and  a  soft  voice  came  to  me 
and  whispered :  "  Are  you  Eckermann's 
friend?" 

"  Yes,  yes  ;  for  God's  sake  tell  me  what  you 
mean.  Is  he  —  is  Eckermann  ill  ?  " 

"  No ;    not  now,    he  shot  himself  yester- 


ECKERMANN  AND  TANNEMEYER  97 

day  through  the  heart  —  we  buried  him  this 
morning." 

And  now  what  should  I  say  to  Tanne- 
meyer?  And  how  should  I  tell  him  this 
awful  thing? 

Vainly  I  had  sought  in  Yen-Bay  for  some 
clew  to  Eckermann's  suicide ;  no  one  could 
throw  the  least  light  upon  it.  There  had  been 
no  letters  for  a  week  ;  he  could  have  heard  no 
bad  news.  They  said,  forsooth,  it  was  in 
sanity,  yet  could  not  tell  of  any  change  in 
his  manner. 

I  was  sick  with  grief  and  horror,  and  now 
here  we  were  at  Than-Ba,  and  what  should 
I  —  what  could  I  say  to  Tannemeyer?  I 
hoped  he  would  have  heard  the  news  already, 
and  that  my  lips  need  not  tell  him.  I  asked 
cautiously  whether  any  word  had  been  heard 
from  up  river.  No,  nothing  for  weeks ;  and 
then  I  ran  up  to  the  pagoda  where  the 
soldiers  were  posted. 

I  found  Tannemeyer  sketching  in  a  corner. 

He  sprang  up  as  he  saw  me  and  ran  and 
embraced  me  in  true  German  fashion. 

"  How  goes  it?"  I  repeated. 

"  O,  very  good,  I  think.  I  have  an  An- 
namite  grammar,  and  I  will  soon  know  some 
thing  of  the  language,  and  then  the  scenery! 
O,  yes,  I  am  quite  happy;  we  have  a 
good  officer,  and  there  is  always  something 

7 


98  TONQUIN   TALES 

new  to  interest  me.  You  have  been  up  the 
river,  you  say,  as  far  as  Trai-Hut?  I  wish  I 
had  been  with  you.  Did  you  —  did  you 
stop  at  Yen-Bay?" 

"  O,  yes ;  and  I  too  wish  you  had  been 
with  me.  I  wished  it  continually.  You 
would  have  helped  me  to  understand  what  it 
meant,  you  would  have  revealed  the  secret 
of  all  that  beauty.  Ah,  what  you  see  here  is 
nothing  to  what  I  have  seen ;  you  must  go 
farther  north. 


That's  the  appropriate  country ;  there  man's  thought, 

Rarer,  intenser, 
Self-gathered  for  an  outbreak,  as  it  ought, 

Chafes  in  the  censer.' 


"  But  you  don't  know  English.  (My  God  ! 
how  should  I  tell  him  ! )  That's  from  one  of 
our  greatest  poets;  do  you  know  him? 
Robert  Browning?  But  I  dare  say  he  has 
not  been  translated  into  German.  Why, 
there  are  even  English  people  who  have  not 
read  him.  But,  then,  not  all  of  you  in  Ger 
many  read  from  Jean  Paul,  do  you  ? "  I 
stopped,  out  of  breath. 

"  Did  you  say  you  had  halted  at  Yen-Bay?  " 
he  reiterated. 

"  O,  yes,  it's  a  very  fine  post,  Yen-Bay ; 
quite  the  best  on  the  river.  They  have  not 
to  live  in  bamboo  canias  as  we  do  at  Yen- 


ECKERMANN  AND  TANNEMEYER  99 

Luong;  they  have  two  large  caserns  there, 
built  of  brick,  quite  as  good  as  any  in  Alge 
ria.  By  the  way,  have  you  heard  any  news 
from  Sai'da?" 

"Did  you  see  Eckermann  at  Yen-Bay?" 
And  so  it  had  to  come.  Nay,  in  spite  of  my 
fencing  he  had  read  it  already  in  my  eyes.  I 
crept  up  close  to  him  and  put  my  arm  on  his 
shoulder,  and  I  told  him  all  the  fearful  tidings. 
I  thought  he  was  going  to  fall,  and  I  pressed 
closer  to  him  and  took  his  hand.  He  was 
not  conscious  any  longer  of  my  presence ;  he 
looked  beyond  me,  off  into  space — far  off 
into  eternity  he  gazed.  Then  slowly  he  stood 
up  and  went  outside.  I  watched  him  as  he 
leaned  over  the  parapet  and  stared  down  at  the 
river.  I  had  seen  grief  often  and  often,  and, 
pity  me !  I  had  seemed  to  feel  it ;  but  never 
anything  like  this,  never  anything  so  awful  as 
Tannemeyer's  grief  as  he  stood  gazing  on  the 
river  —  the  very  air  was  full  of  it.  I  sat 
within  the  doorway,  shuddering.  No,  no  ;  it 
could  not  last,  and  there,  while  I  looked  at 
him,  Tannemeyer  turned  and  waved  me  fare 
well.  A  pistol  was  in  his  right  hand.  I  saw 
a  flash  and  heard  a  report ;  the  next  instant 
Tannemeyer  lay  dead  in  my  arms. 


THE    COOLY 


ONE  morning  it  was  made  known  to  the 
captain  that  three  coolies  from  the  water- 
carriers  were  lacking.  Thereupon  he  sent 
some  of  us  down  to  the  lie-thung  (mayor?) 
of  the  village  to  bid  him  send  us  three  other 
coolies.  As  we  entered  the  lie-thung's  house 
he  was  just  fastening  up  his  hair,  in  a  Grecian 
knot  you  would  have  said. 

He  smiled  a  nervous  welcome  as  he 
stopped  in  his  toilet,  and  motioned  us  to  be 
seated  on  the  broad  platform,  on  which  his 
bedclothes  were  still  lying.  When  he  had 
served  us  with  tea  from  a  porcelain  pot,  we 
told  him,  in  "  pigeon "  French,  what  we 
wanted. 

What!  three  more  coolies?  O,  impossi 
ble  ;  there  was  not  one  to  be  had  in  all  the 
village.  Of  the  three  who  were  missing,  one 
had  been  drowned  the  night  before  in  the 
river,  another  had  broken  his  arm,  and  the 
third  had  the  fever.  .  .  .  Alas,  no  ;  there  were 
no  more  coolies  in  the  village.  But  in  the 


THE   COOLY  1 01 

neighboring  villages?  we  suggested.  Ah, 
there  he  had  no  jurisdiction;  he  was  only 
the  poor  lie-thung  of  Yen  Luong,  and 
our  captain's  most  obedient  servant  — fai>  ni? 

O,  exactly ;  quite  so,  we  assured  him ;  and 
then  we  let  him  know  our  captain's  full  order ; 
namely,  that  if  he  failed  to  send  us  three 
coolies,  he  himself  should  be  taken  and 
forced  to  do  the  work  of  three. 

Oo-tia  Buddha!  Was  this  possible?  Would 
we  force  him,  the  chief  magistrate  of  his  vil 
lage,  to  labor  with  his  hands  —  to  do  coolies' 
work?  Had  we  neither  pity  nor  justice? 
no  bowels  at  all?  no  hearts? 

And  think,  now !  How  in  the  name  of 
Buddha  could  he  help  it,  if  the  lazy  coolies 
must  fall  into  the  river  —  and  take  the  fever? 
Was  he  to —  O,  no,  it  could  not  be  possible; 
we  had  only  made  a  French  joke  —  ha,  ha  ! 
Never  could  the  kind  captain  think  —  ah  — 

And  there  he  stopped  his  whimpering,  for 
he  saw  in  our  faces  that  it  was  French  ear 
nest,  and  no  joke  at  all. 

So  he  said  if  we  would4  come  with  him  he 
would  see ;  yes,  he  would  try  what  was  to  be 
done.  Then  we  went  out  with  him  into  the 
village. 

First  we  found  the  cooly  who  had  the 
fever;  he  was  lying  in  the  sunshine,  shiver 
ing  pitifully,  quite  unable  to  stand  up.  The 


102  TONQUIN   TALES 

lie-thung  talked  at  him  for  a  long  time  in 
tones  of  indignation  and  displeasure ;  all  of 
which  drew  nothing  but  groans  from  the  poor 
wretch.  Finally  the  lie-thung  gave  him  a 
kick,  and  turned  to  us  with  a  smile.  He  had 
an  idea. 

"  Come,"  he  said,  and  led  us  to  the  house 
of  the  village  schoolmaster.  I  forget  the 
Annamite  name  for  him. 

Why,  of  course  the  school-teacher  could 
carry  water  for  us  well  enough,  anyway  till 
the  fever  left  the  cooly.  Certainly  it  would 
be  more  in  keeping  for  a  poor  school-teacher 
to  turn  cooly  than  for  a  lie-thung! 

That  was  his  idea. 

But  we  found  this  school-teacher  to  be  an 
old,  a  very  old  man ;  far  too  feeble  for  our 
use. 

"  Him  one  good  cooly,  nieh?"  whispered 
this  miserable  lie-thung. 

The  old  man  looked  at  us  in  wonder,  while 
his  long,  fleshless  fingers  rattled  the  beads  of 
an  abacus. 

As  we  stood  there  considering  what  we 
had  better  do,  the  schoolmaster's  son  came 
in.  He  was  a  bright-faced  fellow  of  six 
teen  years,  perhaps,  strong  of  limb  and  quick 
of  movement. 

"Him  one  better  good  cooly;  take  him 
with?"  insinuated  this  abject  lie-thung. 


THE   COOLY  103 

Yes,  we  said,  we  would  take  him ;  but 
when  our  intention  was  made  known  the 
father  fell  at  our  feet  and  implored  us  to 
spare  his  son ;  saying  that  he  and  his  family 
were  not  of  the  cooly  class  ;  saying  that  they 
worked  not  with  their  hands ;  that  the 
shame  of  such  work  would  kill  them ;  say 
ing,  also,  that  his  son  was  but  a  child,  —  his 
little  one,  his  tin-yow,  —  never  able  to  do  this 
work  of  carrying  water.  Surely  we  would 
have  pity.  Pity?  Yes,  I  suppose  we  felt 
it,  but,  alas !  we  had  no  permission  to  show 
it.  Turnkeys  and  soldiers  and  hangmen 
must  all  shrug  their  shoulders  and  disclaim 
responsibility ;  and  if  their  hearts  ache  over 
it,  they,  in  turn,  are  to  be  pitied. 

Seeing  no  relenting  in  our  faces,  the  father 
said  he  would  go  in  his  son's  stead.  We 
laughed  at  this,  explaining  that  the  lad  was 
the  stronger,  and  so  more  suitable  for  our 
purpose.  Up  to  this  time  the  son  had  been 
passive ;  but  we  could  see  the  blood  come 
and  go  in  his  face,  and  the  light  in  his  eyes 
gleamed  and  faded  while  we  talked.  Then, 
as  his  father's  proposal  to  go  in  his  place  be 
came  clear  to  him,  he  started  forward,  gath 
ered  his  father  up  from  our  feet  and  stood 
between  him  and  us. 

"  Me  good  cooly,  come !  "  he  said. 

Then  we  went  out  together,  leaving  the 
old  man  to  lament. 


104  TONQUIN   TALES 

Well,  here  was  one  cooly,  but  we  must 
still  have  two  others,  and  we  advised  the 
lie-thung  to  make  haste  and  find  them, 
else  — 

We  were  passing  through  the  market 
place,  and  there  he  laid  hold  of  a  battered 
old  kongdi,  saying  she  would  do  for  a 
cooly,  that  already  she  had  worked  as  one. 
She  was  a  vision  of  dirt  and  rags,  and  her 
face  —  ouff  She  said  she  was  able  and 
willing  to  go,  if  she  could  be  sure  of  getting 
the  right  number  of  sapiques  for  her  work. 

Therefore  we  did  not  let  her  sex  stand  in 
the  way  of  it,  and  straightway  we  engaged 
her. 

Then,  as  we  stood  wondering  where  we 
would  find  the  third  cooly,  and  half  inclined 
to  force  the  lie-thung  to  the  task,  a  poor 
rice-planter  came  along.  He  had  been  buy 
ing  a  pair  of  paper  shoes,  all  ornamented 
with  gold  and  silver  tinsel,  which  he  in 
tended,  I  dare  say,  as  an  offering  to  Buddha; 
he  seemed  in  a  great  hurry  to  go  home  and 
present  them.  That  misfortune  should  meet 
him  on  his  pious  errand  was  very  sad ;  but 
Buddha  gets  so  many  paper  shoes  offered  to 
him,  that  one  pair  more  or  less  can  never 
matter.  So  we  reasoned,  and  so  reasoned 
the  lie-thung,  for  he  whispered :  "  Him 
three  good  coolies  —  nieJi!  " 


THE   COOLY  105 

So  we  persuaded  the  farmer  to  change  his 
plan  and  come  with  us. 

Here,  then,  were  our  three  coolies :  a 
farmer,  an  old  woman,  and  a  young  boy. 
The  lie-tilling,  chuckling  over  his  own 
escape,  bade  us  a  hasty  good-morning,  and 
returned  to  his  tea  and  his  toilet.  We  went 
up  to  the  post  with  our  coolies.  .  .  , 

The  name  of  the  schoolmaster's  son  was 
Mot-li,  but  for  no  obvious  reason  we  called 
him  Chariot.  He  proved  nearly  equal  to 
the  task  imposed  on  him.  It  was  indeed 
sad  to  see  how  his  veins  stood  out  and  his 
muscles  were  strained  as  he  struggled  up  the 
hill  with  the  heavy  buckets. 

Our  post  was  on  a  high  bluff,  and  all  the 
water  needed  had  to  be  brought  up  from  the 
Red  river  (the  Song  Ko'i)  which  ran  below. 
Twelve  coolies  were  kept  at  this  work  from 
early  till  late.  There  was  an  overseer  —  a 
cdi-cooly  —  to  spur  them  on  with  a  rattan 
should  they  flag  in  the  toil.  I  saw  Chariot 
on  the  evening  of  that  first  day ;  there  were 
dark  purple  welts  on  his  back  where  the 
rattan  had  stung  him ;  and  his  shoulders, 
where  the  bamboo  pole  had  rested,  were  all 
swollen  and  bloody.  Not  having  been  trained 
to  such  work,  it  was  doubly  hard  for  him. 

Yet  he  came  back  the  next  day,  and  his 
father  went  to  plead  with  the  lie-thung 


106  TONQUIN    TALES 

for  his  release.  The  lie-thung  referred 
the  matter  to  the  captain,  but  finally  took 
the  bribe  and  promised  to  find  some  one 
to  replace  Mot-li. 

But  on  that  second  day  of  water-carrying, 
as  Chariot  was  swaying  up  the  hill  with  his 
load,  the  captain  came  riding  down  and  saw 
him.  He  was  gracious  enough  to  say  that 
such  work  was  not  suitable  for  one  so  young, 
and  that  Chariot  might  be  employed  as  boy- 
quat.  This  meant  that  he  could  pull  the 
punkah,  or  great  fan,  in  the  officers'  dining- 
room  ;  and  when  not  working  at  that,  he 
could  act  as  scullion  in  the  captain's  kitchen. 

This  change  was  made ;  and  as  Chariot  was 
able  to  speak  a  little  French,  and  was,  more 
over,  of  a  pleasing  countenance,  it  was  prob 
able  that  he  would  obtain  preferment.  From 
a  cooly  he  might  mount  to  an  interpreter  — 
or  even  to  a  cdi-cooly.  Anyway,  he  seemed 
contented,  and  was  exact  and  careful  in  his 
new  work. 

The  kongdi  and  the  rice-planter  were  soon 
released  from  their  engagement,  but  Chariot 
remained  with  us.  We  all  encouraged  him, 
and  showed  him  favor ;  so  he  came  to  be 
glad  that  the  change  had  been  made  in  his 
life.  Then,  as  hope  and  happiness  had  re 
turned  to  him,  and  as  everything  seemed  to 
go  well,  it  all  came  to  a  sudden  end.  One 


THE    COOLY  107 

afternoon,  at  the  flood-time  of  the  year,  Char- 
lot  stood  watching  how  the  great  current 
below  went  sweeping  past. 

There  were  great  trees',  pieces  of  junks,  car 
casses  of  dead  animals,  all  sorts  of  frag 
ments,  with  now  and  then  a  human  form,  all 
floating  past  on  the  surface  of  the  river.  As 
he  stood  there  watching  the  awful  panorama, 
the  chief  cook  of  the  captain's  kitchen  came 
out  and  disturbed  his  musing. 

"  How  many,  Chariot?  "  he  asked. 

"  Nam,  —  five,  me  see  five  !  last  one,  him 
cooly  !  Oo-tia  !  "  answered  Chariot,  who  had 
been  counting  the  floating  corpses. 

Then  the  cook  sent  him  down  into  the 
bamboo  grove  to  gather  dry  sticks  with  which 
to  make  a  fire  in  the  morning. 

Away  went  Chariot,  singing  as  he  went 
some  monotonous  wail  which  passes  in  Ton- 
quin  for  music. 

While  with  us  he  had  learned  to  sing  "  La 
Marseillaise"  (after  a  fashion  of  his  own), 
but  this  afternoon  he  was  gloomy ;  he  had 
been  looking  at  death  and  was  afraid ;  so  he 
sang  a  song  of  his  own  people,  doleful  to  hear. 

As  the  cook  stood  in  the  doorway  of  his 
kitchen  he  listened;  vaguely  and  more  indis 
tinctly  the  notes  came  up  as  Chariot  de 
scended. 

And  then,  suddenly,  instead  of  the   final 


io8  TONQUIN   TALES 

refrain  which  the  cook  waited  for,  he  heard 
a  loud,  prolonged  shriek  which  chilled  the 
blood  in  his  veins,  albeit  the  hot  fire  was  at 
his  back. 

He  looked  down  into  the  plain,  and, 
after  a  moment  of  intense  expectation,  he  saw 
a  fearful  thing:  a  great  tiger  came  bounding 
out  of  the  grove,  and  ran  across  the  dry  rice- 
field  to  the  forest  beyond.  Chariot  was 
clutched  in  his  mouth  and  his  head  was  hang 
ing  lifeless.  .  .  . 

And  the  next  morning  there  was  a  sorrow 
ful  sound  heard  without  the  post,  —  the  sound 
of  an  old  man's  bitter  grief. 

There  in  the  dust,  without  the  gate,  sat  the 
old  schoolmaster  asking  for  his  son,  —  his 
little  one,  — his  tin-yow  ! 

And  there  he  sat  all  day  long,  and  for 
many  following  days,  crying  to  every  one  who 
went  by  for  Mot-li,  —  for  Mot-li ! 

Then  one  day  this  wailing  was  not  heard, 
for  the  schoolmaster  lay  dead  —  there  by 
the  outer  gate  of  the  palisade. 


"LE    BUIF" 

"  Ne  sutor  ultra  crepidam" 

WE  had  been  to  Ka-Dinh.  I  must 
shrink  even  now  when  I  remember 
Ka-Dinh,  and  all  we  had  to  endure  in  going 
there.  As  usual,  I  had  quarrelled  with 
O'Rafferty.  Geniets  had  remained  at  Yen- 
Bay,  Siegfried  also ;  thus  there  was  no  one 
in  our  squad  with  whom  I  cared  to  talk.  I 
must  march  in  silence,  then,  listening  to 
others,  and  learning  my  world.  Behind  me 
came  Rotge,  a  burned-out  Parisian,  and  after 
him  marched  poor  Richet,  of  whom  I  tell 
what  follows. 

A  dull,  silent  fellow,  too  stupid  to  resent 
Rotge's  gibings.  When  we  were  in  garrison 
at  Yen-Luong,  he  was  cobbler  "en  pied"  for 
the  company.  This  was  why  Rotge  never 
called  him  anything  but  le  buif.  His  shoul- 
ers  were  bent,  and  as  he  trudged  along  his 
bearing  was  no  way  martial.  He  did  not 
appeal  to  me  strongly,  hardly  at  all,  indeed, 
and  so  I  never  tried  to  turn  the  tide  of 


no  TONQUIN   TALES 

Rotge's  sarcasm.  Richet  would  smile  at  it  in 
a  mild  way,  dimly  seeing  that  he  was  being 
lampooned,  but  more  flattered  than  offended 
thereat. 

"  O,  but  you  are  a  hard-head,  Rotge,  and 
I  know  you  —  hey?  " 

Then  Rotge  would  glance  at  me,  but  I  had 
not  heard. 

At  length  we  reached  Yen-Bay,  and  there 
we  were  confounded  to  learn  that  Richet  had 
been  named  corporal  in  our  absence.  What! 
surely  not  Richet  le  buif ! 

"  Yes,  truly,  who  else?  " 

Had  we  been  told  that  Boulanger  had  been 
renominated  minister  of  war  we  had  not 
wondered  ;  but  this  !  Why,  we  had  not  even 
known  that  Richet's  name  was  on  the  list  of 
the  eleves  caporaux.  All  the  same,  so  it  was, 
and  we  could  only  wonder  what  the  result 
would  be.  The  result  was  sad.  Little  souls 
are  sooner  caught  by  ambition  than  great 
ones,  just  as  a  straw  hut  will  take  fire  more 
readily  than  a  stone  palace. 

At  Yen-Luong  we  had  all  found  Richet  so 
stupid,  that  unless  we  had  a  pair  of  brodequins 
to  be  mended  we  hardly  ever  spoke  to  him. 
He  talked  in  a  slow,  drawling  voice,  not 
pleasant  to  hear.  He  was  generally  alone, 
yet  when  he  had  earned  a  little  money  by- 
supplementary  cobbling  he  would  spend  it 


"LE   BUIF"  in 

freely  with  Rotge,  or  with  any  one,  and  at 
these  times  companions  never  failed  him. 
But  he  was  not  morose  at  other  times,  only 
dull  and  silent.  Well*  well;  and  now  he 
was  no  longer  Richet  le  buif,  but  Corporal 
Richet,  if  you  please !  We  shrugged  our 
shoulders  and  sniggered.  He  himself  was 
as  much  astonished  as  we,  but  instead  of 
finding  some  means  whereby  to  reject  his 
nomination,  he  took  it  in  perfect  seriousness, 
for  forthwith  he  began  to  believe  in  his  own 
ability,  and,  yes,  he  would  demonstrate  to  us 
that  he  was  less  stupid  than  we  supposed  — 
hein?  Then  on  several  occasions  the  other 
corporals  proved  to  him  that  he  was  unwise  in 
trying  to  carry  it  through  ;  they  made  it  quite 
plain  to  him  that  he  was  an  imbecile,  so  he 
spoke  at  times  of  renouncing  his  rank  and 
going  back  to  his  cobbling — h'm. 
If  he  had  done  so,  all  might  have  gone  well ; 
but  he  kept  on.  He  was  able  to  keep  on 
with  it  because  we  were  still  on  the  march,  so 
his  service  was  simple  enough  ;  also,  the  others 
helped  him.  Then  a  day  came  when  he  was 
given  the  ordinaire  in  his  charge ;  in  other 
words,  he  must  attend  to  the  distribution  of 
rations  for  his  company.  This  is  often  the 
work  of  a  sergeant,  but  every  corporal  should 
be  able  to  do  it,  since  all  that  is  required  for 
it  is  a  little  knowledge  of  "  the  three  R's." 


ii2  TONQUIN   TALES 

But,  ho  !  poor  Richet  was  aghast.  He  knew 
the  prices  of  sole-leather,  but  little  else. 
He  never  could  have  performed  this  new  ser 
vice  had  the  others  withheld  their  help.  On 
looking  back,  we  saw  how  this  charge  must 
have  weighed  upon  him  mightily,  far  more 
than  we  imagined  at  the  time.  It  was  then 
that  Sergeant  Dreck  began  his  thieving, 
began  to  steal  from  our  rations,  thinking  that 
all  the  blame  would  fall  on  Corporal  Richet. 
Wine  he  stole,  and  tafia,  and  canned  meats, 
and  who  knows  what  all.  Richet  saw  the 
deficit  and  trembled. 

We,  however,  knew  that  he  was  quite  in 
nocent,  and  we  all  felt  at  once  that  Sergeant 
Dreck  was  the  greedy  one  who  had  pilfered 
from  our  stores.  Richet  was  deeply  moved 
about  it,  and  he  spoke  of  paying  us  from  his 
own  poor  pocket.  We  resented  this,  and 
tried  to  pass  it  over.  Still  he  fretted  about 
it,  and  his  work  weighed  upon  him  more 
than  ever. 

During  our  long,  wearisome  marches 
Richet  was  often  unwell,  but  his  silly  ambi 
tion  made  him  hold  out,  even  when  his  phys 
ical  forces  were  far  from  equal  to  the  effort. 
Pounding  leather  on  a  lapstone  had  not 
trained  him  for  marching,  so  he  suffered 
more  than  the  rest  of  us.  But  just  before 
we  came  back  to  Yen-Bay  for  the  last  time, 


"LE   BUIF"  113 

he  said  he  would  not  return  with  us  to  Yen- 
Luong;  he  said  he  had  a  cold,  and  he  would 
remain  at  Yen-Bay  and  enter  the  infirmary 
there. 

We  laughed  at  his  assurance ;  we  were  all 
fit  enough  for  the  infirmary,  but  we  knew 
that  a  cold  or  even  a  bronchite  would  not  be 
a  sufficient  reason  for  getting  in.  But  as 
Richet  was  so  sure  of  his  affair,  we  said 
nothing  to  daunt  him.  We  were  used  to  his 
moods  by  this  time,  and  noticed  nothing 
new.  I  remembered  afterwards  how  excited 
he  was  that  night,  —  all  about  two  Corsicans 
of  another  squad  who  began  to  fight  over  a 
game  of  chess.  We  would  have  let  them 
strangle  each  other  in  peace,  but  not  so 
Richet;  he  jumped  between  them  and  cried 
out :  "  I  forbid  you  !  I  am  Corporal  Richet, 
and  I  forbid  you !  I  forbid  you,  I  say !  " 
So  much  energy  and  noise  coming  from  the 
phlegmatic  Richet  surprised  me,  and  aston 
ished  the  Corsicans  so  much  that  they  forgot 
their  quarrel.  The  next  day  Richet  was 
grieved  and  chagrined  because  he  was  not 
admitted  to  the  infirmary.  We  pursed  our 
lips  and  looked  askance. 

On  leaving  Yen-Bay  we  learned  that  Ser 
geant  Dreck  had  been  stealing  our  rations 
again;  so  we  threw  it  in  his  teeth,  and  jeered 
at  him  openly.  Richet  looked  gloomy  and 
8 


ii4  TONQUIN   TALES 

almost  desperate ;  he  still  had  charge  of  the 
ordinaire,  and  by  this  time  he  could  manage 
it  if  not  interfered  with.  But  Dreck  was  un 
abashed,  and  said  that  our  corporal  was  a 
fool.  "  So  between  a  fool  and  a  knave  we 
may  go  hungry,"  we  snarled.  "  And  you 
are  not  the  fool  !  "  In  settling  back  into 
garrison  life  we  forgot  all  about  Richet  and 
his  new  rank. 

There  came  a  day  which  was  very  hot ;  a 
thick,  stifling  vapor  seethed  through  the  air ; 
the  sun  seemed  quite  near  to  us,  for  through 
the  vapor  we  could  look  straight  at  it  and 
never  blink.  There  it  was,  just  overhead,  a 
ball  of  pink  fire  spinning  in  space.  The 
river  below  us  ran  quickly  past,  as  if  it 
feared  to  be  turned  into  steam  before  it 
could  reach  the  sea. 

The  rice-fields  beyond  had  been  under 
water  the  day  before,  but  their  moisture  was 
now  fast  disappearing  into  the  air.  I  put 
wet  napkins  on  my  head  and  crept  away  to 
a  dark  place.  .  .  . 

Next  day  I  was  all  right,  but  many  others 
were  on  the  sick-list.  One  came  in  and  said 
that  Corporal  Richet  was  drunk  ever  since 
the  night  before. 

That  seemed  strange,  for  since  the  China 
man  had  been  evicted  from  his  canteen  down  by 
the  river,  we  had  no  means  of  getting  drink; 


"LE   BUIF"  115 

and,  thinking  it  over,  Richet  had  never  been 
a  drinking  soldier.  But  there, —  as  we  could 
hear  him  gabbling  nonsense  out  at  the 
kitchen,  I  concluded  that  he  must  indeed 
be  drunk.  How  purblind  we  are  !  We  see 
things  happening  day  after  day,  yet  when 
the  natural  effect  of  such  happenings  arrives, 
we  gape  at  it  as  if  we  had  seen  no  foreshad 
owing  of  it. 

For  half  a  day,  then,  we  believed  Corporal 
Richet  to  be  drunk,  when  indeed  he  had 
become  a  jabbering,  gibbering  idiot. 

At  the  first  there  was  a  grain  of  sense  or 
consequence  in  his  talk,  but  by  evening  he 
was  mad  as  a  hatter.  And  still  he  would 
say  a  thing  which  would  make  us  laugh ; 
we  are  ever  so  ready  to  laugh,  that  the  grin 
on  a  skull  may  start  us.  But  again  he  would 
begin  to  talk  about  his  mother  —  and  that 
was  gruesome.  The  strange  thing  was  that 
Richet  should  be  talking  at  all,  for  never  had 
he  talked  so  loud  before.  Some  of  us  had 
never  heard  him  speak  till  then ;  but  now 
how  he  raved  !  This  is  the  way  he  went  on  : 
"  I  will  beg  you  to  remark  one  thing.  I'm 
no  fool  —  not  I.  I  am  cute,  I  tell  you.  Look 
here! — but  no  matter,  —  ha,  ha  !  lean  do 
anything  —  everything — and  I'm  not  afraid 
—  no  —  I'm  a  corporal,  hey? — well,  I'll  be 
come  a  sergeant  too,  and  so  on  up  the  line. 


n6  TONQUIN   TALES 

I'm  not  a  fool,  I  tell  you  ;  I'm  cute  —  I'm  too 
sharp  for  you.  I  know  the  world,  —  and 
there's  my  mother.  O,  she'll  be  pleased  with 
me  now  —  for  I'm  going  home,  I  tell  you,  — 
yes,  I've  got  my  discharge,  and  I'm  going 
home  —  home  to  see  my  mother.  How 
she'll  laugh  !  She'll  be  satisfied  with  me  now 
—  she  always  said  I  was  no  fool,  and  she 
knows  me.  How  she'll  laugh !  ha !  ha ! 
ha!" 

He  would  begin  these  short  phrases  in  a 
low  voice,  but  as  he  went  on  he  would  in 
crease  the  sound  so  that  the  last  words  were 
loud  and  triumphant.  It  was  a  woeful  thing 
to  hear,  and  when  we  could  stand  it  no 
longer  we  persuaded  poor  Richet  to  go  to 
bed  in  the  adjutant's  room,  which  was  vacant. 

"In  the  adjutant's  room?  Why  not !  for 
I'll  soon  be  an  adjutant  too,  ha,  ha !  " 

Next  day  he  was  sent  to  Yen-Bay,  but  he 
soon  returned  on  his  way  to  the  hospital  at 
Ha-NoT.  He  was  pale  and  sleepy  and  hol 
low-eyed —  and  still  ceaselessly  gibbering. 
And  still  I  can  hear  him  say :  "  How  she'll 
laugh!  ha!  ha!  ha!" 

So,  had  he  never  gone  beyond  his  last,  it 
would  have  been  better  for  him,  and  for  his 
mother. 


A    DREAM 

"  And  without  a  parable  spake  he  not  unto  them"    Matt.  xiv.  34. 

A  ND  so  I  lay  down  to  sleep  with  my  head 
/jLpillowed  in  the  hollow  of  Buddha's  left 
foot,  —  there  where  he  sat  cross-legged  on 
the  ground. 

A  dim  radiance  flickered  within  the  pagoda, 
partly  from  three  rush-lights,  and  partly  from 
our  camp-fire  without  the  walls.  From 
where  I  lay  I  could  see,  indistinctly,  the 
forms  of  seven  other  images,  ranged  on  one 
side,  and  opposite  them,  and  far  in  the  back, 
were  many  more  immortals  which  I  could 
not  see ;  but  all  of  them,  like  Buddha,  were 
wrapped  away  in  Nirvannah,  with  never  a  con 
sciousness  of  any  intrusion,  or  of  any  dese 
cration  in  their  sanctuary. 

Outside  I  could  hear  the  irrelevancies  of 
my  comrades;  they  were  telling  each  other 
what  delectable  things  they  would  eat  when 
they  were  back  in  Paris ;  and  one  recounted 
in  a  lingering  voice  the  whole  beautiful  menu 
of  a  three-franc  dinner  at  the  Palais  Royale. 


n8  TONQUIN    TALES 

Ouf !  I  tried  to  shut  my  ears  to  all  that, 
and  I  thought  that  I  too  would  fain  find 
Nirvannah ;  so  I  turned,  saying  I  would 
sleep.  But  my  eye  caught  sight  of  another 
group  of  images. 

There  was  a  central  female  figure,  framed 
about  with  smaller  shapes  which  represented 
the  human  passions ;  so  I  understood  it. 
See  !  there  was  Gluttony,  with  Drunkenness 
reeling  above  him.  Anger  and  Lechery  and 
all  the  rest  in  a  hideous  circle,  whence  the 
Woman  looked  forth  in  sad  serenity.  What 
was  it?  Had  she  given  birth  to  these?  Or 
were  they  — 

And  so  I  slept. 

And  I  dreamed  that  you  and  I  were  stand 
ing  together  on  a  wide,  barren  seashore. 
Far  away  from  us  the  sea  rolled  peacefully 
in,  making  no  sound ;  and  very  far  away  to 
the  left  we  saw  the  misty  outline  of  a  cliff. 

Suddenly  I  knew  the  place,  and  I  was 
afraid.  G^rome  has  made  a  picture  of  it; 
only  in  the  place  where  we  were  standing  he 
has  painted  a  lion,  —  a  fierce  lion,  with  out- 
sprawled  legs  and  lashing  tail.  In  my  dream 
I  shuddered  lest  it  were  behind  us  and  I 
should  see  it.  As  we  stood,  the  cliff  seemed 
to  advance  towards  us ;  nearer  and  nearer 
it  came,  and  watching  it  I  forgot  the  lion. 
Then,  moved  by  a  quick  impulse,  we  ran 


A   DREAM  119 

forward  to  meet  it.  As  we  sped  along,  the 
wind  arose  and  blew  up  clouds  of  red  sand ; 
but  we  did  not  stop. 

I  thought :  "  Ah,  we  are  in  Algeria,  and 
this  is  a  sirocco;  there  is  nothing  to  fear." 
Then,  through  these  sand-clouds,  I  saw  that 
the  cliff  had  changed  into  a  great  stone  tem 
ple  of  strange  construction.  I  looked  at  you 
in  wonder  and  said  :  "  See,  it  is  not  a  mosque, 
nor  a  marabout;  neither  is  it  a  pagoda,  nor 
a  synagogue ;  for  whose  worship  or  honor 
can  it  have  been  built?"  I  waited,  but  you 
made  me  no  reply.  I  saw  then  that  you 
did  not  hear  me ;  you  did  not  know  you  were 
there;  you  were  asleep  or  entranced,  with 
out  consciousness  of  anything;  you  did  not 
even  feel  my  grasp  upon  your  arm.  All 
the  horror  of  the  unknown  came  upon  me, 
and  clutching  your  hand  I  hurried  you  along. 

Presently  we  came  close  to  the  temple ; 
deeply  cut  in  its  granite  walls  I  traced 
strange  figures  and  hieroglyphs. 

Before  us  was  a  wide  courtyard,  flanked  by 
two  wings  of  the  temple ;  it  was  paved  with 
large  squares  of  red-veined  marble,  and  in 
the  centre  stood  the  image  of  a  cow  carved 
from  stone,  short  and  thick  of  body  and 
perched  on  legs,  or  rather  on  four  sculptured 
columns  which  raised  it  up  to  the  top  of  the 
temple.  Then  I  turned  again  to  you  and 


120  TONQUIN   TALES 

said :  "  O,  I  know  now  what  it  is,  and  where 
we  are ;  this  is  the  Bull  Apis,  and  this  tem 
ple  was  built  for  its  worship.  You  see  we 
are  in  Egypt,  in  Ancient  Egypt.  Come,  we 
will  go  into  the  temple."  But  lo  !  as  I  spoke 
you  had  gone,  and  the  Bull  Apis  had  gone, 
and  I  was  alone. 

Before  me  the  cold  granite  walls  still  re 
mained,  but  carved  now  with  dragons  and 
symbols  of  Buddha's  worship.  As  I  stepped 
upon  the  marble  slabs  of  the  courtyard, 
blood  oozed  out  of  them  and  clung  to  my 
feet.  When  I  saw  this  I  stood  still,  unable  to 
move  for  fear.  Then  slowly  the  two  great 
doors  of  the  temple  opened  towards  me,  and 
a  priest  came  out.  On  his  head  was  a  tower 
ing  red  turban,  and  I  supposed  him  to  be  a 
Brahmin,  — only  how  came  he  into  Egypt? 

As  I  looked  in  his  face,  all  my  fear  van 
ished,  for  in  his  eyes  I  saw  nothing  but  the 
purest,  tenderest  love.  Infinite  sympathy 
was  in  his  glance,  and  I  was  fain  to  abase 
myself  at  his  feet. 

But  I  held  back,  I  knew  not  how.  Some 
thing,  many  things  about  him  surpassed  my 
comprehension.  Senses  and  faculties  were 
his  whereof  I  had  no  knowledge.  Ah !  I 
thought,  but  if  I  go  into  the  temple  I  shall 
learn  them ;  I  shall  acquire  them  for  myself; 
I  shall  be  like  him,  and  shall  wear  a  tower- 


A   DREAM  121 

ing  red  turban  !  He  knew  my  wish  before 
I  could  speak  it,  and  motioned  for  me  to 
enter. 

The  doors  closed  upon  me,  shutting  him 
out.  I  found  myself  in  an  inner  court,  which 
was  paved  with  porphyry.  There  were  no 
windows,  or  any  lamps ;  yet  all  the  place  was 
filled  with  purple  light. 

Here  were  more  priests,  all  clothed  like 
the  first  one,  and  lying  on  the  floor  in  front 
of  them  were  six  Roman  cardinals,  all  asleep, 
their  hats  hung  on  pegs  in  the  wall  above 
them.  In  an  instant  I  understood ;  already 
I  was  acquiring  new  powers  of  perception. 
These  cardinals  were  missionaries,  who  had 
come  to  convert  the  "  heathen  "  priests  of 
this  temple.  They  had  been  preaching,  all 
of  them  together,  and  were  sleeping  now 
after  their  ineffectual  exertion. 

As  I  stood  looking  at  them,  one  at  the 
end,  warned  in  his  sleep  of  my  presence, 
awoke,  and,  raising  himself  on  his  elbow,  he 
waved  me  back  with  a  sweeping  gesture.  He 
and  his  companions,  with  their  hats,  seemed 
strangely  out  of  place,  yet  I  did  not  smile. 
Gently  one  of  the  priests  made  him  lie  down 
again,  and  re-covered  him  with  the  silk 
blanket  which  his  gesture  had  displaced. 

I  asked  this  priest  whether  I  must  remove 
my  shoes  before  penetrating  further  into  the 


122  TONQUIN    TALES 

temple,  for  I  saw  piles  and  rows  of  shoes  and 
sandals  at  the  door. 

"  Yes,"  he  said,  "  for  they  are  stained  with 
blood." 

Then  all  at  once  I  felt  myself  going,  rush 
ing  down  a  long  corridor,  together  with  a 
mass  of  strange,  unfamiliar  people.  I  could 
hear  them  talking,  but  understood  no  word. 
But  it  seemed  that  I  should  soon  come  to 
know  everything ;  once  let  me  reach  the  inner 
sanctuary,  where  already  I  could  see  moving 
forms,  and  then  all  tongues  and  all  mysteries 
would  be  plain  to  me. 

Suddenly  I  .stopped  and  let  the  people 
sweep  past.  I  felt  the  cold  pavement  under 
my  bare  feet.  I  wanted  to  remember  where 
I  had  left  my  shoes.  I  was  sure  I  had  re 
moved  them,  for  there  were  blood-stains  on 
my  hands;  but  where  were  they?  I  could 
not  think.  So  I  was  drawn  in  opposite  direc 
tions  ;  the  intense  desire  to  learn  what  was 
beyond  drew  me  forward.  I  could  even  see 
through  a  glass  wall  portions  of  a  strange 
ceremony.  A  man  clothed  in  cloth  of  gold 
stood  before  something  and  worshipped. 
Confusedly  1  could  hear  what  he  was  say 
ing.  One  word,  always  the  same,  he  kept 
repeating  in  a  solemn  chant.  I  strained  hard 
to  hear  it.  Buddha?  Brahma?  Jehovah? 
Jove?  Allah?  No,  neither  of  these  ;  and  yet 


A   DREAM  123 

all  of  these,  and  many  others,  all  expressed 
in  this  same  word.  Ah,  this  word,  if  I  could 
learn  it,  would  be  the  key  of  all  things  known 
and  unknown.  I  took  another  step  forward, 
and  felt  again  the  cold  flagstones  under  my 
feet;  and  then  the  necessity  of  finding  my 
shoes  forced  me  back.  Well,  I  would  return 
and  find  them,  and  still  be  in  time  to  learn 
this  word.  Back  I  flew  to  the  doors  and 
began  a  hurried  search  among  the  rows  and 
piles  of  dusty  shoes.  I  would  know  mine  by 
the  blood  on  them,  I  thought;  but  I  looked 
in  vain. 

Shoes  and  sandals  of  every  shape  and  size ; 
but  mine  were  not  with  them,  —  none  of  them 
were  stained  with  blood.  Wildly  I  ran  from 
pile  to  pile,  from  row  to  row,  —  my  search 
was  useless. 

Then  the  people  began  to  come  out,  and  I 
saw  with  dismay  that  the  rite  was  over.  It 
had  ended  while  I  stood  turning  over  dusty 
shoes.  This  was  remorseful.  I  stood  back 
in  a  corner  and  wept,  with  my  face  to  the 
wall.  Then  I  thought:  "I  will  wait  here 
till  every  one  is  gone,  and  if  any  shoes  be 
left,  I  will  take  them."  Soon  I  heard  the 
outer  doors  close,  and  looking  around  I  saw 
my  own  shoes  lying  near  by.  Eagerly  I 
seized  them,  and  was  hurrying  away  when 
one  of  the  cardinals  came  and  said  they  were 


124  TONQUIN   TALES 

his  shoes.  "  No,"  I  cried,  "  for  mine  have 
marks  of  blood  on  them,  as  you  may  see." 
He  snatched  them  from  me,  but  in  an  instant 
he  let  them  fall  and  started  forward  and 
stopped.  I  looked  to  where  his  gaze  was 
turned,  and  saw  a  row  of  mummies  standing 
against  a  wall.  As  we  both  stared  at  them 
they  fell  forward  on  their  faces  and  flew  into 
fragments  at  our  feet.  The  cardinal  backed 
away,  and  I  saw  him  changing  into  a  painted 
mummy  himself.  As  he  recoiled  he  fell 
backwards  over  my  shoes  and  flew  into  frag 
ments  just  like  the  others.  .  .  . 

Then  I  awoke  in  a  great  trepidation.  The 
camp-fire  was  burned  out,  but  the  rush-lights 
showed  me  that  all  was  well.  I  could  hear 
the  deep  breathing  of  my  comrades,  asleep 
near  by,  and  the  quiet  tread  of  the  sentinel 
as  he  passed  to  and  fro  outside. 

Thoughtfully  I  turned  and  kissed  my  pil 
low,  and  slept  in  peace  till  morning. 


DE    PERIER 

"  If  I  can  gain  Heaven  for  a  pice, 
Why  need  you  be  envious?" 

I  WAS  sitting,  one  day,  while  journeying 
to  Tonquin,  on  the  ledge  of  a  two-storied 
hen-coop  in  the  stern  of  the  vessel.  There 
were  other  hen-coops  on  the  opposite  side, 
and  sheep-pens  farther  along;  wisps  of 
hay  were  sticking  to  the  bars  of  the  pens, 
and  paddy  —  that  is,  unthreshed  rice  —  was 
scattered  about  the  coops.  At  Singapore 
we  had  taken  more  sheep  aboard,  —  an 
Asiatic  breed,  with  broad,  flat  tails.  Were  the 
chickens  "  Brahmas,"  or  "  Cochin-Chinas, " 
or  "  Plymouth  Rocks  "  ?  I  could  not  tell.  I 
saw  that  they  looked  low-spirited  as  they 
crouched  in  a  corner,  and  I  called,  "  Biddy ! 
biddy  !  "  and  "  Chick  !  chick  !  "  but  they 
gave  no  heed. 

Soldiers  of  the  Foreign  Legion  and  of  the 
Marine  Infantry  went  strolling  up  and  down 
the  deck,  while  others  squatted  in  groups 
playing  loto  or  piquet.  Presently  a  fellow 


126  TONQUIN   TALES 

dressed  as  a  chasseur  d  Afrique  came  and 
perched  on  the  hen-coop  opposite  and  began 
to  stare  at  me.  I  liked  his  face,  so  I  stared 
back  at  him.  I  had  noticed  him  frequently 
before,  particularly  as  he  was  the  only  one 
of  his  corps  on  board,  and  I  had  intended  to 
ask  some  one  about  him.  but  had  forgotten. 

o 

Now,  as  we  sat  there,  dangling  our  feet  list 
lessly,  we  took  each  other's  measure.  What 
his  judgment  was  he  told  me  afterwards; 
what  mine  was  I  kept  to  myself  till  now. 
I  thought  his  face  was  unusually  handsome, 
having  only  two  defects :  a  sensual  mouth 
and  a  weak  chin.  I  had  seated  myself  up 
there  with  the  hens  for  the  purpose  of  read 
ing  "  Minna  von  Barnhelm,"  but  when  this 
chasseur  came  along,  I  stuck  the  book  be 
tween  the  bars  of  the  coop,  and  stared  unin 
terruptedly  till  O'Rafferty  passed,  and  I 
called  his  attention  with  the  tip  of  my  toe 
and  asked  him  who  my  vis-a-vis  was,  and 
"  que  diable  sient  ilfaire  dans  galere"  I  knew 
O'Rafferty  would  soften  to  a  bit  of  French, 
so  for  the  sake  of  the  quotation  I  humored 
him. 

"  O,  he?  I  don't  know  exactly.  Why  do 
you  ask  me?  Did  you  think  I  knew  him?  " 

"  No,"  I  answered.  "  I  did  not  suppose 
you  would  know  him,  or  would  care  to  tell  if 
you  did.  I  only  asked  you  because  I  was 


DE   PERIER  127 

too  lazy  to  get  down  and  ask  some  one 
else." 

Then  O'Rafferty  went  on,  and  my  right  toe 
tingled.  The  chickens  came  forward,  and 
picked  at  "  Minna,"  so  I  rescued  my  book 
and  began  to  read. 

But  pshaw  !  with  that  fellow's  big  gray  eyes 
gazing  at  me  I  could  not  read,  and  I  did  not 
care  to  look  at  him  any  longer.  So  I 
got  down  and  went  forward.  I  found 
Gregoire,  a  big  Belgian  of  my  company, 
sitting  in  a  shady  corner,  reading  an  ancient 
copy  of  "  Le  Figaro."  I  squatted  down  be 
side  him,  and  asked  him  what  was  the  news. 

"  O,  nothing  new,"  he  yawned  ;  "  the  Pope 
is  still  in  Rome,  it  seems,  and  Bismarck  at 
Berlin." 

"  Delighted  to  hear  it ;  but  say,  who  is  the 
chasseur  with  the  white  hands  and  the  big 
eyes?  But  as  there  is  only  one,  I  need  not 
describe  him.  Do  you  know  anything  about 
him?" 

"  Yes  ;  shall  I  introduce  you  ?  I  know  him 
well  enough ;  he's  a  splendid  chap ;  he  killed 
an  Arab  —  a  spahi ;  that's  why  he's  here.  His 
colonel  got  him  off  that  way.  He's  to  go  to 
Ha-Noi  and  enter  the  marine  infantry  there. 
He's  a  journalist,  I  think.  Shall  I  introduce 
him?" 

"  Perhaps,"  I  said,  "  but  not  now.     I  want 


128  TONQUIN   TALES 

to  take  in  what  you  have  told  me.  How  did 
he  come  to  kill  the  spahi?" 

"  O,  I  don't  know  the  details ;  it  seems  the 
spahi  was  jealous,  and  thought  De  Perier  — 
that's  his  name  —  was  flirting  with  his  wife, 
or  trying  to ;  so  he  called  De  Perier  a  sale 
roumi,  and  De  Perier  slapped  him,  so  they 
had  to  fight,  and  De  Perier  spitted  him  clean 
through.  Then  there  was  a  fuss.  Ca'id 
somebody  or  other  of  the  tribe  of  I  don't 
know  what,  wanted  vengeance.  But  the 
colonel  of  De  Perier's  regiment  was  a  friend 
of  De  Perier's  papa,  and  so  all  the  punish 
ment  he  got  was  thirty  days  au  clan,  and 
then  they  shipped  him  off  here  to  Tonquin, 
as  you  see,  and  he'll  change  his  corps,  that's 
all." 

"Thanks,  Gregoire,"  I  said.  "  I'll  tell  you 
to-morrow  whether  I  wish  to  be  introduced 
to  your  friend  or  not." 

"  What's  that?  My  friend?  I  did  not  say 
he  was  my  friend,  did  I?  I  know  him  some 
what,  but  there  is  no  friendship  between  us." 

"  O,  I  beg  your  pardon,  but  as  you  praised 
him  so  much,  I  supposed  you  felt  kindly 
towards  him." 

"  And  so  I  do  feel  kindly  towards  him  ;  but 
that  is  far  from  having  him  for  my  friend." 

Well,  I  noticed  as  we  sailed  that  every  one 
felt  kindly  towards  De  Perier,  yet  no  one 


DE    PERIER  129 

seemed  to  make  a  friend  of  him ;  at  least  he 
was  generally  alone.  Of  course,  being  of  a 
different  corps,  there  was  some  reason  for 
this ;  and  yet  one  would  expect  that,  being  in 
the  same  squad  (or  plat,  as  we  say  at  sea) 
with  a  few  uf  the  marine  soldiers,  some  of 
them  would  have  fraternized  with  him ;  but 
not  at  all ;  they  left  him  quite  alone. 

When  it  came  to  the  point  of  having  Gre- 
goire  introduce  me  or  not,  I  refused.  No ; 
De  Perier  attracted  me  in  a  way,  but  he  re 
pelled  me  at  the  same  time. 

"No,  Gregoire,"  I  said ;  "there  is  some 
thing  queer  about  him.  I  don't  know  what. 
You  feel  it  yourself,  and  you  don't  know  what 
it  is.  Well,  I  don't  want  to  know." 

After  that  I  thought  no  more  about  De 
Perier  till  he  was  leaving  us,  at  Ha-Noi'.  Then, 
as  I  watched  the  others  disembarking,  I  saw 
him  running  about  shaking  hands  with  every 
body,  and  with  me  too  before  I  knew  it,  or 
had  the  presence  of  mind  to  dodge  him. 

" Au  revoir"  he  said  ;  "I'll  see  you  again." 

"  The  deuce  you  will !  "  was  what  I  thought, 
but  I  said  :  "  Well,  au  revoir" 

I  certainly  never  expected  to  see  him 
again,  and  as  nearly  as  I  can  remember  I 
never  wanted  to.  He  was  no  more  to  me 
than  a  face  in  a  crowd ;  a  handsome  face, 
perhaps,  but  not  recalled  with  any  delight. 


130  TONQUIN   TALES 

Yet  we  did  meet  again,  as  he  predicted,  and 
this  was  the  way  of  it :  I  was  sent  to  Ha-Noi 
to  give  testimony  in  a  court-martial  case,  and 
as  the  trial  was  delayed  for  two  or  three 
months  my  stay  there  was  prolonged. 

I  was  quartered  in  the  citadel  with  a  com 
pany  of  marine  infantry,  and  I  had  nothing 
to  do  but  amuse  myself  and  ward  off  mosqui 
toes. 

One  evening  a  tall  "  marsouin  "  came  into 
our  chamber  and  made  himself  free  of  a 
place  on  my  bed,  and  forthwith  he  began  to 
talk  to  me.  I  looked  at  him  sharply,  and 
tried  to  remember  where  I  had  seen  him  be 
fore  ;  he  saw  my  hesitation  and  said : 
"What?  You  forget?  But  I  told  you  I 
would  see  you  again.  Don't  you  recall  the 
chasseur  on  board  the  '  Colombo'  ?  " 

"Yes,  vividly,"  I  assented;  "but  you're 
not  he  ;  you're  not  De  Perier?  " 

"  O,  yes  I  am,  and  quite  at  your  service." 

Sure  enough  ;  he  had  the  same  large  gray 
eyes,  only  now  I  saw  another  light  in  them : 
the  pupils  seemed  larger,  and  the  expression 
was  somehow  different.  Moreover,  the  large 
sensual  mouth  looked  drawn,  and  fell  at  the 
corners  more  than  formerly;  yet,  of  course, 
it  was  De  Perier  :  his  voice  was  not  changed, 
and  as  he  talked  I  recalled  it. 

"  Say,"   he    said,   "  why   did    you    not    let 


DE    PERIER  131 

Gregoire  introduce  me  to  you  on  ship 
board?" 

I  was  taken  aback. by  this  sudden  question. 

"  Did  he  tell  you  that  I  refused  then?  " 

"  No,  he  never  spoke  of  you  to  me ;  but  I 
knew  what  was  in  your  mind.  Don't  you 
remember  the  day  we  sat  staring  at  each 
other  from  opposite  hen-coops?  I  came 
near  saving  you  the  trouble  of  asking  O'Raf- 
ferty  about  me  by  coming  over  and  telling 
you  myself  what  I  saw  you  wanted  to  know." 

"  But  —  but  —  but  how  did  you  know  I 
asked  O'Rafferty  ?  Did  he  tell  you  ?  " 

"  Why,  no  ;  can't  you  understand  ?  I  read 
it  all  in  your  face," 

"  Indeed?  You  seem  to  have  remarkably 
clear  eyesight."  And  suddenly  I  turned  and 
stared  at  him  again  straight  in  the  eyes. 
"  What,"  I  asked,  "  do  you  read  in  my  face 
now?" 

"  Why,  you  are  wondering  how  it  is  that  I 
have  changed  so :  whether  it  is  the  climate ; 
and  whether  I  have  the  fever,  and  so  on.  Am 
I  not  right?" 

"  Quite  right,"  I  replied  ;  "  but  you  need  not 
answer  these  questions  till  I  ask  them  audibly." 

I  was  vexed  with  him,  and  with  myself, 
more  than  there,  was  any  reason  for  being ; 
he  saw  it  and  said  :  "  Come,  let  us  go  out  for 
a  walk ;  you  do  not  wish  to  go  to  bed  yet." 


132  TONQUIN   TALES 

I  did  not  want  to  go  out  with  him  in  the 
least;  but  neither  did  I  wish  to  sit  there 
talking  with  him.  I  turned  my  face  away 
that  he  might  not  see  what  I  was  thinking, 
and  then  I  opened  my  lips  to  make  some 
excuse ;  but  what  I  really  said  was,  "  Yes, 
let  us  go  for  a  walk."  Out  we  went ;  I  felt 
the  same  repugnance  to  him  that  I  had 
spoken  of  to  Gregoire,  and  now  I  partly  un 
derstood  it;  it  was  because  he  had  the 
power  of  reading  my  thoughts,  and  fore 
stalled  me  with  answers  and  comments  be 
fore  I  spoke.  But  that  was  not  all.  I  kept 
thinking  of  Doctor  Fell,  and  wondering 
whether  he  guessed  it;  perhaps  he  did,  for 
he  worked  hard  to  amuse  me,  and  make  me 
reconsider  my  verdict;  and  when  he  had 
talked  for  a  time  about  Algeria  I  did  recon 
sider  it.  He  struck  the  right  note  when  he 
began  about  that  country,  and  I  listened  with 
open  ears.  "  O,  yes,"  I  said,  trying  him; 
"  but  here  in  Tonquin  we  have  this  wonder 
ful  vegetation,  and  in  Algeria  it  is  all  barren 
plains." 

"  Wonderful  vegetation  !  look  at  it !  green, 
green,  green  —  eternally  green !  and  I  am 
sick  of  it,  and  I  burn  to  get  back  to  my  bar 
ren  plains.  There  one  is  free  —  one  can 
breathe  ;  ah  !  wait  till  you  know  Algeria  as  I 
do  and  you  will  agree  with  me." 


DE    PERIER  133 

"  But  I  agree  with  you  now,"  I  said.  "  I, 
too,  prefer  Algeria  to  any  other  land." 

"  Only  not  to  France  ?  " 

"  A  thousand  times  to  France." 

"  Ah,  but  you  see  my  mother  is  in  France, 
and  so  I"  — 

After  that  first  evening  I  felt  no  more  re 
pugnance  towards  De  Perier,  and  the  days 
were  long  till  the  evenings  when  he  would 
come  and  sit  on  my  bed  and  talk.  Some 
times  he  was  on  guard  duty  and  could  not 
come,  but  six  evenings  out  of  seven  we  were 
together. 

Once  I  asked  him  about  his  prospects  :  what 
would  he  do  when  his  service  was  finished? 

"  O,  I  shall  probably  never  get  out  of  my 
track;  I  shall  reenlist." 

"  Reenlist !  "  I  screamed  ;  "  but  you  told 
me  you  hated  the  life.  You  don't  propose 
to  try  for  promotion,  do  you?" 

"  Not  at  all.  Yes,  I  do  hate  it,  but  what 
else  can  I  do?  " 

"  You  frighten  me  !  What  else  can  you 
do?  Why,  you  might  better  do  anything 
than  become  brutalized  here  in  the  army  !  I 
thought  Gregoire  told  me  you  were  a  jour 
nalist?  " 

"  So  I  am  —  or  so  I  was  once ;  but  that's 
a  dog's  life  too ;  and  then  —  but  don't  let  us 
talk  about  it." 


134  TONQUIN   TALES 

"As  you  choose,"  I  said;  "but  how  about 
your  mother?  You  said  she  was  in  France; 
will  you  not  wish  to  return  to  see  her?  " 

"  I  said,  please  do  not  let  us  talk  about  my 
future;  but  since  you  will  have  it,  I'll  tell  you 
that  —  that  I"  — 

Then  he  got  up  and  went  out,  and  I  saw 
him  no  more  till  the  next  day,  which  was 
Sunday ;  then  he  came  in  the  afternoon  and 
invited  me  to  go  out  in  town  and  call  on 
some  of  his  friends.  No  way  loath  I  went 
with  him. 

I  wanted  to  lead  our  talk  back  to  where 
it  had  so  suddenly  ended  the  night  before, 
but  he  started  off  on  another  track ;  he  began 
to  tell  me  of  a  girl  whom  he  once  wanted 
to  marry — on  whose  account  he  was  here. 
"  Why,"  I  interrupted,  "  from  what  Gregoire 
told  me,  I  thought  it  was  for  killing  an  Arab 
that  you  were  obliged  to  come  here." 

"O,  yes;  but  if  I  had  not  been  in  Algeria 
I  could  not  have  killed  the  spahi,  and  if  it  had 
not  been  for  Catrine  I  would  not  have  been 
in  Algeria.  What  says  your  English  prov 
erb?  'For  ze  want  of  ze  ridere  ze  cheval 
was  los','  hein  !  " 

"  Ah,  quite  so,  I  understand.  By  the  way, 
do  you  not  speak  English?  " 

For  my  sins  I  asked  it !  Forthwith  he 
began  to  recall  Ollendorfs  English,  and  he 


DE   PERIER  135 

floundered  about  for  a  time  in  impossible 
sentences. 

"  O,  excellent,  excellent !  "  I  exclaimed  ; 
"  I  admire  your  memory;  but  to  go  back  to 
Miss  Catrine ;  how  was  it  her  fault  that  you 
went  to  Algeria?  " 

"  O,  the  old  story:  she  loved  some  one 
else —  at  least  she  married  him  —  and  I  had 
the  misfortune  to  wound  him  in  a  duel.  I 
had  confidently  hoped  that  he  would  kill 
me,  but  he  didn't,  as  you  see,  so  I  went  off 
to  Algeria.  What  great  lengths  we  go  when 
once  started ;  just  like  the  rest  of  creation, 
we  have  to  submit  to  the  law  of  inertia,  we 
—  but  here  we  are  at  Robert's;  come  in." 

We  were  in  a  by-street,  lined  with  low- 
roofed,  Annamite  dwellings. 

We  entered  a  large  room  just  off  the  street, 
and  I  was  introduced  to  Robert  and  to  his 
Annamite  wife.  He  was  a  middle-aged  man, 
employed  as  a  town  clerk,  or  something.  It 
was  interesting  to  see  how  she  deified  him, 
and  pleasing  to  see  how  kind  he  was  to  her ; 
but  nothing  else  about  either  of  them  at 
tracted  me.  After  the  usual  speeches  of 
courtesy  had  been  made,  I  found  that  Robert 
spoke  English  quite  readily,  and  he  was  glad 
of  a  chance  to  show  off  his  ability.  All  at 
once  he  whispered  to  me,  "  Have  you  known 
De  Perier  for  a  long  time?  " 


136  TONQUIN   TALES 

"No,  but  be  careful;  he  understands  a 
little  English;  he  will  hear  you." 

"  No  ;  he  is  talking  to  my  wife,  he  does  not 
notice.  If  you  had  known  him  well,  I  would 
have  asked  you  to  help  him,  but  as  you  are 
only  an  acquaintance" — 

"  Even  so,  I  am  willing  to  help  him  if  I 
can.  How  does  he  need  help?  " 

He  looked  at  me  sharply.  "  Don't  you 
know?  don't  you  see?  "  he  whispered. 

"Not  in  the  least;  I  see  he  has  changed 
somehow :  he  is  not  like  what  he  was  before 
coming  here  —  I  remember  him  on  the  voy 
age —  but"  — 

"  O,  if  you  don't  know  what  it  is,  I  cannot 
tell  you.  I  am  sorry  I  spoke ;  please  forget  it." 

"  Certainly,  I  shall  not  mention  it,  but  I 
shall  be  curious  all  the  same.  I  have  often 
heard  him  speak  of  you  as  his  friend,  but 
permit  me  to  say  that  you  were  not  greatly 
pleased  to  see  him  when  we  came  in.  O, 
no  doubt  you  were  cordial  enough  with  the 
lips,  but  the  light  in  your  eyes  went  out.  I 
used  to  feel  quite  as  you  do  towards  him,  but 
lately  I  have  grown  to  like  him." 

"And  so  do  I;  I  like  him,  too,  but"  — 

"But  what?  Speak  out,  man!  You  talk 
of  him  as  if  he  were  a  murderer.  I  know 
that  he  killed  an  Arab,  but  it  was  in  a  duel, 
and  "  — 


DE   PERIER  137 

"  O,  I  say  there,  you  are  not  very  polite, 
you  others,  with  your  English."  It  was 
De  Perier  who  spoke. 

"  You  are  right,"  I  said  ;  "  but  please  ex 
cuse  us,  'tis  so  long  since  we  have  had  a 
chance  to  speak  it." 

Alas !  I  saw  that  though  De  Perier  had 
not  understood,  he  had  guessed  what  we  were 
talking  about.  I  was  vexed  with  him  for 
having  taken  me  there,  and  with  Robert  for 
having  dragged  me  into  a  false  position.  I 
was  eager  to  get  away,  and  so,  for  that 
matter,  was  De  Perier.  Before  long  we  stood 
up  to  take  leave.  Robert's  little  boy  came 
in  just  then,  and  he  jabbered  a  jumble  of 
French  and  Annamite  to  us,  which  relieved 
the  strain,  and  we  were  able  to  come  away 
laughing. 

Robert  seemed  sincere  in  asking  us  to  call 
again,  and  in  an  aside  to  me  he  asked  if  I 
would  come  alone  the  next  day.  I  said  yes, 
I  would ;  but  I  did  not  feel  very  sure  about 
it.  I  had  had  enough  of  Robert.  As  soon 
as  we  were  on  the  street  De  Perier  cried : 
"  What  did  he  say?  Did  he  tell  you  ?  " 

"  Did  he  tell  me  what?  I  will  tell  you,  De 
Perier,  that  your  friend  Robert  does  not 
please  me  at  all,  and  I  wish  we  had  never 
gone  near  him.  He  hinted  things —  or  some 
thing —  about  you,  I  don't  know  what —  and 


138  TONQUIN   TALES 

you  have  hinted  yourself.  Last  night  you  — 
but  please  don't  think.  I  am  asking  you  to 
tell  me  what  is  in  the  wind." 

"  Well,  see  here,"  he  cried ;  "  it  is  in  the 
wind,  as  you  say,  and  if  you  remain  at  Ha- 
Noi  you  will  hear  it  from  some  quarter ;  so  I 
may  as  well  tell  you  myself:  I  smoke  opium'' 

"Indeed!"  I  exclaimed.  "The  moun 
tain  was  in  labor  and  brought  forth  a 
mouse  !  You  and  your  friend  Robert  make 
much  ado  about  nothing." 

"  Ah,  but  you  don't  understand :  I  am  a 
slave  to  it ;  I  cannot  live  without  it ;  and  it 
is  killing  me" 

Yes,  I  saw  it  now.  I  had  been  blind  and 
stupid  not  to  have  seen  it  before.  Why,  only 
coming  down  the  river  I  had  seen  a  China 
man  dying  from  this  habit ;  but,  pshaw !  it 
could  not  be. 

"  Do  you  say,"  I  asked,  "  that  you  know 
it  is   killing  you,  and  you  will  not  stop  it?  " 

"  No,  I  do  not  say  that:  I  say  I  know  it  is 
killing  me  and  I  cannot  stop  it, — to  stop  it 
would  be  death,  too,  so  far  I  have  gone." 

"  But  how —  when  do  you  smoke?  " 

"Every  night;  when  I  leave  you  I  go 
straight  to  the  pipe." 

"  But  do  your  officers  not  know  it?  Has 
no  one  warned  you,  or  tried  to  save  you?" 

"  Yes,  it  is  becoming  known  ;  but  no  ;  noth^ 


DE    PERIER  139 

ing  can  be  done  for  me.  There  is  no  imme 
diate  danger,  however,  unless  I  were  to  be 
deprived  of  it." 

"  Ah,  but  in  your  position  as  a  soldier,  how 
easy  it  would  be  to  deprive  you  of  it !  Sup 
pose  for  some  breach  of  discipline  you  were 
put  into  prison  for  a  few  days  or  longer?" 

"  Well,  I  have  considered  that  possibility, 
and  in  such  a  case  I  would  be  obliged  to  eat 
opium  instead  of  smoking  it." 

"  Yes,  but  how  procure  it  in  prison,  even 
for  eating?  " 

"  O,  I  am  always  provided  with  a  certain 
quantity  for  fear  of  being  taken  unawares,  as 
you  suggest;  but  I  know  there  are  thousands 
of  circumstances  in  which  I  might  be  forced 
to  forego  it.  You  know,  I  suppose,  —  at  least 
you  have  read, —  that  the  after  effects  of  the 
sleep  are  as  horrible  as  it  is  heavenly.  Well, 
the  chief  horror  for  me  is  the  fear  of  having 
no  more  opium  to  smoke.  I  imagine  that 
I  am  dying  for  lack  of  it,  as  I  may  be  some 
day,  and  the  agony  and  terror  of  this  feeling 
are  unspeakable.  But  that  is  only  one  of 
the  horrors — and,  pshaw!  the  delights  are 
greater  than  the  horrors,  so  why  should  I 
forego  them?  Don't  speak;  I  know  all  you 
may  wish  to  say.  I  have  said  it  all  to  myself, 
often  and  often.  I  know  it  is  a  terrible  state 
to  be  in.  At  least  rational  people  so  con- 


140  TONQUIN    TALES 

sider  it.  But  what  is  reason,  anyway?  Yet 
no ;  why  should  I  seek  to  defend  myself? 
You  cannot  judge  fairly  till  you  are  as  I  am, 
and  then  you  will  judge  as  I  do.  Why  is 
it  that  certain  of  us  were  born  with  such 
weak  wills  that  we  run  headlong  to  destruc 
tion?  Were  we  not  created  for  this?  " 

"  O,  for  God's  sake,  De  Perier !  "  I  cried, 
"  do  not  talk  such  infernal  nonsense !  You 
fool  yourself  if  you  think  it  is  your  fate  to 
destroy  yourself.  I  cannot  say  that  if  you 
were  to  blow  out  your  brains  at  once  there 
might  not  be  some  merit  and  virtue  in  that ; 
but  to  kill  yourself  slowly,  mind  and  body, 
as  you  profess  to  do,  strikes  me  as  being  the 
madness  of  a  fool." 

"  It  is  worse  than  that,"  he  cried.  "  I  am 
almost  rational  now,  and  I  see  almost  as 
you  do ;  but  in  a  few  hours,  when  the  desire 
to  smoke  returns,  then  it  is  the  madness  of  a 
devil  which  fills  me,  and  I  am  not  myself;  or 
I  am  myself  at  such  times  and  not  now.  I 
do  not  know.  I  know  that  some  experience 
one  thing,  and  some  another.  My  case  is  ex 
ceptional.  I  cannot  hinder  my  fate.  I  can 
only  submit." 

"O,  yes,"  I  sneered;  "that  is  the  plea 
that  every  one  makes ;  but  it  is  false.  In 
deed  you  flatter  yourself;  your  case  is  no 
different  from  thousands  of  others  ;  you  "  — 


DE    PERIER  141 

"  Hold  on !  you  are  wrong  there,"  he 
cried.  "  Each  case,  each  individual,  is  differ 
ent  in  countless  ways^from  every  other  indi 
vidual  ;  the  circumstances  of  no  two  lives 
are  just  alike,  and  if  you  knew  the  details  of 
my  life — say,  do  you  believe  in  inherited 
tendencies?  But  why  should  I  seek  to  de 
fend  myself?  I  wish  rather  to  condemn 
myself,  and  to  warn  you  and  every  one  from 
following  in  my  path." 

"  But  listen  an  instant,"  I  said.  "  Is  your 
case  utterly  hopeless?  Can  nothing  —  abso 
lutely  nothing  —  be  done  ?  Do  you  not  desire 
now — now  when  you  say  you  are  almost 
rational  —  to  stop  in  your  course,  to  get  back 
your  strength  and  manhood  ?  " 

"  I  understand  what  you  ask,  but  that  is 
all;  I  have  no  desire  for  anything  much, 
except  for  peace  —  and  opium.  What  you 
call  strength  and  manhood,  what  are  they, 
after  all,  that  I  should  desire  them  ?  Strength 
and  manhood,  forsooth  !  What  are  they  for 
but  to  experience  joy  and  pleasure  withal, 
hein  ?  O,  yes  ;  '  sane  pleasures  '  and  '  modest 
joys  '  —  Et  in  Arcadia  ego!  —  Fie  hire!  Are 
they  to  be  compared  in  any  way  with  the 
delights  of  opium  ?  Never  !  " 

"  Alas !  then  I  may  hold  my  peace,"  I 
said,  for  to  talk  with  him  was  like  groping 
for  a  door  in  a  blank  wall ;  and  then  I  shud- 


142  TONQUIN   TALES 

dered.  I,  in  my  safety,  felt  so  scornful,  so 
unforbearing  towards  him.  I  was  safe  be 
cause  I  felt  no  desire  to  imitate  him ;  yet  if 
it  were  otherwise,  would  that  be  wonderful 
or  surprising? 

"  Listen,  De  Perier,"  I  said,  "  and  try  to 
understand  what  I  mean.  It  is  impossible 
that  I  should  feel  otherwise  than  disgusted 
with  you.  The  old  revulsion  which  I  felt  on 
the  ship  has  returned  to  me;  I  know  now 
why  I  feel  it.  But  now  I  have  another  feel 
ing  in  my  heart  for  you  —  no,  it  is  not  pity : 
you  need  not  wince  —  it  is  sympathy.  Thus, 
even  while  I  feel  how  terribly  depraved  you 
are,  I  have  no  stone  to  throw  at  you ;  not 
one. 

"  To  me  your  fault  seems  very  great,  but 
that  does  not  make  it  so ;  my  standards  are 
never  what  you  or  any  one  shall  be  judged 
by.  I  am  something  of  a  Pharisee,  perhaps, 
because  I  am  thankful  not  to  be  as  you  are, 
just  as  I  would  be  thankful  not  to  have  a 
broken  leg  or  softening  of  the  brain  ;  you  see, 
there  is  no  scorn  of  you  in  it.  In  my  way 
I  may  have  worse  defects  than  this  of  yours, 
and  —  I  have  not  yet  left  Tonquin.  Who 
can  tell  that  I  may  not  become  as  you  are? 
It  is  always  possible.  Realizing  this,  I  can 
not  condemn  you  without  condemning  my 
self  beforehand.  Now,  see  here  :  if  you  think 


DE    PERIER  143 

that  my  companionship  is  of  any  value  to 
you,  I  ask  you  to  make  use  of  it  when  you 
will,  and  as  you  will ;  but  if  you  are  indif 
ferent,  or  can  forego  my  society  without  loss, 
I  ask  you  for  my  sake  to  do  so.  I  believe 
that  if  I  were  to  see  you  often  I  would  grow 
used  to  the  idea  of  opium,  and  —  who  is 
ever  sure  of  himself?  No ;  unless  there  be 
something  to  be  gained  for  you  by  coming 
to  see  me,  I  will  ask  you  not  to  come  any 
more.  This  looks  to  be  unkind;  yes,  it  looks 
quite  as  if  I  threw  you  off  because  you  were  not 
good  enough  for  me  ;  but  you  know  it  is  not  so  ; 
you  know  —  you  must  know  that  I  care  more 
for  you  now  than  I  ever  did  before  ;  and  this  is 
what  makes  your  presence  dangerous  for  me  ; 
being  fond  of  you,  I  may  easily  grow  used  to 
your  habit,  I  may  just  wish  to  try  it  — just 
to  see ;  you  know  how  easy  it  is  to  start  on 
a  bad  road." 

To  all  this  and  much  more  De  Perier  lis 
tened  in  silence.  We  had  come  back  by  way 
of  the  lake,  and  there  we  sat  down  on  a  big 
stone  bench  to  talk  the  matter  over.  I  did 
not  think  he  would  regret  the  loss  of  my  com 
pany  ;  he  had  his  opium  to  console  him  for 
any  temporary  disquietude. 

See  there  !  was  I  not  half  envious  of  him, 
of  his  ability  to  escape  the  vexations  of  life? 

For  my  own  part  I  would  miss  him  bitterly 


144  TONQUIN   TALES 

at  first,  but  in  the  army  one  grows  used  to 
such  separations ;  one  can  count  on  nothing 
else.  He  made  some  objection  at  first,  but 
I  was  firm,  and  at  last  we  agreed  that  he 
should  come  no  more  to  see  me,  unless  there 
were  something  of  importance  to  say  to  me 
—  which  would  not  be  likely  to  occur. 

As  we  sat  there  looking  out  over  the  lake, 
seeing  nothing  of  the  beauty  of  it,  I  sud 
denly  felt  him  clutch  my  arm,  and  turning  I 
saw  his  face  wet  with  tears,  —  weak,  drivelling 
tears,  I  thought,  —  and  my  heart  hardened 
towards  him ;  but  when  he  burst  out  in  a 
storm  of  grief  which  shook  him  bodily,  I  was 
moved  to  relent. 

"  You  were  my  last  friend,"  he  said,  "  and 
you  cast  me  off;  that  is  what  I  feel,  and  it 
is  bitter.  But  it  is  not  a  great  sorrow. 
When  I  left  France  and  when  I  said  adieu  to 
Algeria  I  did  not  weep ;  yet  my  grief  was 
greater  than  it  is  now,  and  yet  this  is  bitter." 

"  Yes,"  I  admitted,  "  it  is.  But,  you  see,  for 
me  it  is  necessary,  and  you  care  enough  for 
me  to  wish  me  to  escape  the  danger  of  fall 
ing  into  your  condition.  If  I  were  morally 
stronger  it  would  not  be  needful  for  us  to 
separate  —  but "  — 

"  O,  I  know  it  is  for  the  best,  and  we  will 
abide  by  our  agreement." 

Slowly   he    stood    up    and   said    "  good- 


DE    PERIER  145 

night !  "  for  the  sun  had  gone  down  while 
we  sat  there,  and  the  stars  had  come  out. 
"It  is  'good-by.'"  I  said.  "  Yes,  good- 
by !  "  —  and  in  the  twilight  he  walked  away, 
and  left  me  sitting  there.  .  . 

On  the  next  evening,  when  De  Perier  did 
not  appear  at  the  usual  time  I  was  struck 
with  grief.  Indeed  it  was  time  I  detached 
myself  from  him.  But  would  he  come? 
Would  he  break  our  agreement  and  come? 
Eagerly  I  waited  and  hoped  ;  but  no,  he  did 
not  come.  In  vain  I  tried  to  read,  so  I  got 
up  and  walked  out  —  perhaps  I  would  meet 
him.  I  summoned  to  my  mind  all  the 
repugnance,  all  my  disgust  of  him,  but  it  was 
gone;  nothing  did  I  feel  but  the  tenderest 
pity  and  sympathy,  and  the  most  ardent  wish 
to  see  him.  Up  and  down  I  walked,  looking 
every  one  in  the  face,  but  De  Perier  did  not 
appear.  I  went  back  sad  and  sorry.  Why 
had  I  thrown  him  off?  But  I  would  see  him 
somehow  the  next  day,  and  beg  him  to  for 
get  what  I  had  said;  but  why  should  I? 
If  he  had  really  cared  for  my  company  he 
would  not  have  submitted  to  my  request. 
So  I  continued  wavering  from  one  notion  to 
another  till  a  week  passed.  I  was  gradually 
schooling  myself  back  to  indifference  and  to 
something  of  my  old  repugnance. 

But  when  he  came  running   in  to  me  one 


146  TONQUIN   TALES 

morning,  my  heart  leaped  forward  to  meet 
him. 

"  Halloo  !  what  is  it?  "  I  cried. 

"  I've  only  a  minute  to  say  adieu.  I'm  off 
to  Son-Tay  in  half  an  hour.  I  shall  never 
see  you  again,  —  I  am  glad  to  have  known 
you  "  — 

"  Nay,  it  is  not  '  adieu  '  this  time  either," 
I  said.  "  I  shall  see  you  again,  I  am  sure  ; 
au  revoir  till  then." 

He  looked  at  me  in  a  strange  way,  and 
his  big  gray  eyes  clouded  over. 

"  I  hope  we  may  meet  again,"  he  said, 
"  but  it  is  doubtful.  Good-by  !  "  and  he  was 
gone.  .  .  . 

Shortly  afterwards  I  left  Ha-Noi*  to  return 
to  Yen-Luong.  The  boat  stopped  for  a  few 
minutes  at  Son-Tay,  and  of  one  of  the  sol 
diers  loitering  on  the  wharf  I  asked  for  news 
of  De  Perier.  He  did  not  know  him,  but 
said  that  if  he  had  lately  come  from  Ha-NoT, 
he  was  probably  en  colonne  —  marching  after 
pirates. 

On  reaching  my  post  I  found  that  our 
company  was  also  to  start  out,  and  all  was 
excitement  over  it.  We  would  see  some 
thing  of  the  country  anyway,  and  if  we 
found  any  pirates — why,  tant  mieux  —  oil 
Jant  pis  ! 

We    had    been   marching   a  long    time,   it 


DE    PERIER  147 

seemed,  when  we  were  told  of  a  preconcerted 
attack  to  be  made  on  Song- Yam  the  next 
day.  Two  battalions  of  Marine  Infantry 
were  to  arrive  at  the  same  point  from  an 
opposite  direction.  "  So,  then,  I  shall  see 
De  Perier  to-morrow,"  I  thought,  and  there 
upon  I  forgot  how  tired  I  was  and  the  mos 
quitoes  ceased  to  bother  me. 

The  attack  was  made ;  and  after  we  had 
buried  our  dead  —  six  was  the  number,  I 
think  —  and  cared  for  the  wounded,  we  pre 
pared  to  depart. 

Just  then  a  marsouin  came  into  our  camp 
asking  right  and  left  for  me.  "  Yes?  What 
is  it?  Is  it  De  Perier?" 

"  How  did  you  know?  Yes,  it  is  he,  and 
he  is  dying.  If  you  wish  to  see  him  you 
must  come  quickly." 

"  Ah,  but  I  cannot  go  without  permission  ; 
my  company  is  to  start  directly,  and  I  should 
be  left.  How  has  he  been  wounded?" 

"  Who  said  he  was  wounded  ?  It's  not 
that,  he  has  a  fever  or  something.  He  has 
been  out  of  his  head  for  the  last  three  hours. 
I  supposed  he  was  raving  when  he  asked  me 
to  come  and  look  for  you,  but  it  seems  you 
know  him." 

"Wait  a  minute." 

I  ran  to  an  under  officer  and  asked  permis 
sion.  Yes,  I  could  go  for  an  hour ;  it  would 


148  TONQUIN   TALES 

be  that  long  before  the  company  could 
start. 

"  Come  on!"  I  cried;  "quick!  lead  the 
way !  " 

In  ten  minutes  we  were  in  the  camp  of  the 
marine  infantry,  and  there,  lying  in  the  shade 
of  a  clump  of  bamboos  I  found  poor  De 
Perier. 

My  heart  sank  as  I  saw  him.  Death  was 
near,  and  such  a  death  !  More  horrible  than 
I  had  ever  pictured  it.  All  his  flesh  was 
wasted  and  gone ;  only  a  skeleton  was  left, 
in  which  was  an  awful,  visible  agony.  At 
first  he  did  not  know  me,  but  I  knelt  down 
and  whispered  in  his  ear,  "  What  is  it  De 
Perier?  what  can  I  do  for  you?" 

"  Ha  !  it  is  you  !  see  !  quick  !  you  can  save 
me!  it  is  all  gone  —  you  know,  my  opium  is 
all  gone  —  for  four  days  I  have  had  none. 
Oh,  for  the  love  of  France  find  me  some 
quick,  or  I  am  lost !  O,  quick  !  quick  !  " 

"But  how?  where?  O,  my  dear  friend, 
if  my  heart  were  of  opium  I  would  tear  it 
out  for  you,  but,  alas  !  " 

Suddenly  I  remembered :  after  the  attack 
of  the  day  before,  some  of  our  men  had  pil 
laged  in  the  pirates'  canias ;  perchance  they 
had  found  some. 

"  Wait,"  I  said. 

Back  I  ran  to  our  camp  and  asked  hurriedly 


DE   PERIER  149 

whether  any  had  been  found,  and  who  had 
it.  Yes,  Penhoat  had  found  a  small  tin  box 
of  opium,  and  had  sold  it  to  a  cooly  for  a 
piaster. 

"Which  cooly?  quick!  " 

"  That  one,  there,  with  the  white  rag  on  his 
arm."  I  had  two  piasters,  so  I  ran  to  him. 

"Donne  opium  moiv-lemvite ! "  I  cried. 
From  his  turban  he  took  it,  and  like  the  wind 
I  flew  back  to  De  Perier.  No,  I  was  not  too 
late ;  he  was  still  alive,  yet  the  fire  had  died 
in  his  eyes,  and  he  seemed  calm. 

"  See,  I  have  some !  "  I  said. 

Eagerly,  furiously  he  snatched  the  box 
and  pressed  it  to  his  heart. 

"At  last  saved!  — saved!  "  And  then  a 
new  light  shone  across  his  face,  and  suddenly 
he  sat  up  and  with  all  his  remaining  strength 
he  hurled  the  box  of  opium  away  from  him. 

"  My  God !  De  Perier,  what  have  you 
done  !  You  are  dying,  do  you  know?  You 
have  thrown  your  life  away,"  and  I  arose  to 
go  after  the  opium. 

"No;  listen,"  he  said,  and  in  his  voice 
was  the  ring  of  strength  and  manhood.  "  It 
is  over;  my  agony  is  mortal,  and  why  pro 
long  it  ?  To-day —  to-morrow,  or  next  year ; 
what  does  it  matter?  Here;  my  mother's 
address.  Write  to  her;  tell  her — tell  her 
—  ah !  " 


I5o  TONQUIN   TALES 

A  blur  came  over  his  eyes,  his  voice  died 
away,  and  he  sank  back.  Over  in  our  camp 
I  heard  the  clarion  sounding  "  sac  a  dos" 
and  I  knew  that  my  company  was  starting. 

I  bent  over  and  touched  De  Perier's  fore 
head  with  my  lips.  He  was  dead,  and  there 
I  left  him  in  the  shade  of  the  bamboos.  I 
told  his  comrade  whom  he  had  sent  for  me, 
and  then  I  rejoined  my  company,  running 
for  a  mile  before  I  came  up  with  it.  ... 

When  we  got  back  to  Yen-Luong,  I  found 
Madame  De  Perier's  address  in  one  of  my 
pockets,  and  I  remembered  what  her  son  had 
said  ;  so  I  wrote  : 

DEAR  MADAM:  You  will  have  known  ere  this  of 
your  son's  death.  I  do  not  know  what  report  the  au 
thorities  may  have  made  to  you  concerning  it;  but 
whatever  you  may  have  been  told  was  doubtless  incor 
rect.  I,  as  an  eye-witness,  can  give  you  a  more  exact 
account.  You  must  know  that  your  son  died  on  the 
field  of  battle  (le  champ  dhonneur}.  Many  brave  sol 
diers  were  killed  that  day,  but  no  one  died  more  heroi 
cally  than  he.  By  submission  to  the  enemy  he  might 
have  saved  his  life,  but  with  a  courage  almost  super 
human  he  preferred  death  to  bondage;  and  so  his 
death  was  noble  —  triumphant. 

Adieu,  Madam ! 

I  have  the  honor  to  have  been  your  son's  friend,  and 
to  remain  your  devoted  servant.  .  .  . 

P.S.  —  His  last  words  were  of  you.  He  bade  me  write 
to  you. 


THE    WORST    OF    THE    BARGAIN 


nicest  native  I  ever  met  was  Pho- 
Xa.  That  was  the  name  he  preferred; 
but  to  certain  Catholic  missionaries  he  had 
been  known  as  Paul.  He  had  been  "  Catho- 
lica  "  himself  in  those  days  ;  he  had  been 
baptized  by  these  missionaries,  and,  to  some 
extent,  educated  by  them.  But  he  had  re 
canted,  and  had  resumed  his  name  of  Pho- 
Xa,  and  his  worship  of  the  great  Buddha. 

Van  Eycke  and  I  were  going  down  the 
river  in  a  chaloupe  when  I  saw  him  first. 
Van  Eycke  was  a  Belgian  who  had  a  knowl 
edge  of  many  unspeakable  things,  of  which 
he  was  always  trying  to  tell  in  untranslatable 
French.  The  reason  his  speech  was  so  un 
usual  was  because  at  home  he  had  heard 
only  Wallon  spoken,  and  nothing  but  Argot 
in  the  streets.  The  mixture  of  these  made 
confusion.  By  the  time  we  reached  Vie-Trie 
I  had  grown  weary  of  his  talk,  so  all  without 
giving  offence  I  bade  him  hold  his  peace.  At 
Vie-Trie  a  few  natives  came  aboard,  and 


152  TONQUIN   TALES 

among  them  was  Pho-Xa.  I  was  not  observ 
ant  of  him  at  first.  It  was  a  rich  family 
of  quality  which  drew  my  attention. 

There  was  a  man  with  his  two  wives  and  a 
child,  a  little  girl.  After  certain  preliminary 
gestures  of  courtesy  they  installed  them 
selves  in  a  clean  corner  of  the  deck,  and  then 
they  proceeded  to  drink  nyuk-tay  and  to 
smoke  the  Annamite  pipe. 

The  garments  and  jewelry  of  the  younger 
woman  were  very  fine  and  costly,  and  the  in 
ventory  of  them  interested  me.  Her  outer 
kay-owy  or  tunic,  was  of  sombre  hue ;  but 
where  it  opened  at  the  sides  several  others 
were  disclosed,  all  of  the  most  gorgeous 
colors,  and  each  in  the  right  relation  to  the 
others,  so  that  none  of  them  looked  dull. 
Her  ka-quan  was  of  yellowish  silk,  and  fell 
in  folds  over  her  black  lacquered  sandals. 

Her  little  ears  were  pierced  by  thick  links 
of  yellow  gold,  and  a  heavy  golden  collar 
was  about  her  neck.  I  had  estimated  all 
these  things,  and  more,  when  my  attention 
was  averted  by  Van  Eycke's  discordant 
voice.  He  was  talking  to  Pho-Xa,  who  sat 
staring  at  him  as  though  he  were  an  oracle 
of  profoundest  wisdom.  I  left  off  looking 
at  the  rich  family,  and  went  over  to  listen  to 
Van  Eycke. 

"  Halloo  !  "  said  he,  "  let  me  introduce  you 


WORST   OF   THE   BARGAIN      153 

to  Pho-Xa.  Is  that  it?  Isn't  he  nice?  He  can 
speak  French.  He's  a  school-teacher,  and 
only  eighteen  years  old.  He  "  — 

"  All  right,"  I  interupted  ;  "  since  he  knows 
French  let  him  speak  for  himself." 

Pho-Xa  looked  at  me  in  surprise,  wonder 
ing  how  I  dared  to  snub  one  so  wonderful  as 
Van  Eycke. 

He  was  indeed  a  bright  fellow,  ready  of 
understanding,  and  graceful  of  manner,  with 
a  knowledge  of  French  which  was  quite  un 
usual.  I  am  sure  that  Van  Eycke,  whose 
previous  life  had  been  passed  at  Paris,  knew 
nothing  whatever  of  the  inherent  qualities  of 
French  verbs ;  but  here  was  Pho-Xa  talking 
about  the  fourth  declension  !  O,  a  school 
teacher  indeed ! 

Van  Eycke  could  not  comprehend  this  at 
all,  for  he  continued  to  talk  to  him  in  the 
jargon  of  common  usage. 

It  was  plain  that  when  Van  Eycke  talked 
to  me  poor  Pho-Xa  was  quite  bewildered,  so 
very  few  of  Van  Eycke's  words  were  in  his 
vocabulary. 

Presently  something  in  Pho-Xa's  manner 
puzzled  me :  in  the  middle  of  a  sentence  he 
would  hesitate  and  look  behind  in  a  startled 
way  as  though  he  were  called,  or  as  though 
to  ward  off  a  blow. 

"  What  is  the  matter,  Pho-Xa?  "   I  asked. 


154  TONQUIN   TALES 

"  Nothing,  oh,  nothing,  —  I  fear  nothing  !  " 
and  then  after  a  moment,  "  Do  you  know  the 
captain  at  Than-Ba  ?  " 

"  You  mistake, "  I  replied ;  "  there  is  no 
captain  at  Than-Ba,  it  is  a  lieutenant  who 
has  the  command  of  that  post.  Yes,  I  know 
him,  — why?  " 

"  O,  it  is  because  I  will  teach  the  native  tin- 
yow  —  the  native  children  —  at  Than-Ba,  and 
I  desire  that  the  master,  the  head  of  the  post, 
be  contented  with  me ;  that  is  all." 

And  so  I  went  on  talking  with  Pho-Xa, 
finding  out  several  things  I  had  long  wished 
to  know. 

At  least  when  Pho-Xa  could  not  answer 
my  questions  he  said  so  in  French ;  and  my 
ears  were  not  vexed  by  the  eternal  "  kongo- 
biet."  I  saw  that  although  Pho-Xa's  garments 
were  of  rich  material,  they  were  much  worn, 
and  patched  about  the  elbows. 

He  was  quick  to  notice  my  scrutiny  of 
him,  and  seeing  perhaps  a  look  of  interest 
in  my  face  he  began  to  tell  me  about  him 
self.  His  family,  as  he  said,  had  been  rich 
and  considerable,  and  had  dwelt  at  Hong- 
Hoa;  but  at  the  approach  of  French  inva 
sion  the  natives  there  had  burned  their 
houses  and  fled. 

Pho-Xa  was  but  a  young  boy  then,  and 
had  been  lost  in  the  excitement  and  confu 
sion  of  flight. 


WORST   OF   THE   BARGAIN      155 

Eventually  he  had  fallen  into  the  hands  of 
some  French  missionaries,  and  these  had 
taught  him  more  or  less,  and  had  baptized 
him  in  the  Catholic  religion. 

"  Ah,"  I  said,  "  so  you  are  Catholic?  " 

He  looked  at  me  sharply  to  see  whether 
the  truth  would  horrify  me,  but  I  stared 
vacantly  at  him,  and  then  slowly  he  said : 
"No,  not  now;  now  I  say,  'shim  shim 
Buddha'  like  all  my  people.  But  my 
father  and  brother,  they  do  not  know  it; 
they  think  me  still  '  Catholica  ' !  My  father 
and  brother  are  with  the  pirates  —  they  are 
not  friends  of  France;  they  suffer  much. 
My  brother  he  wish  to  kill  me  ;  he  say  so  ; 
he  say  better  I  dead  than  Frenchman,  than 
'  Catholica.'  And  so  I  come  back  to  Buddha. 
I  run  away  from  the  mission — but  I  find  not 
my  brother,  and  still  he  think  me  '  Catho 
lica.'  Now  I  have  a  word  from  him — -one 
word  he  write  to  me ;  he  write  '  TJiiet;  '  you 
know:  Death. 

"  He  mean  he  will  kill  me,  for  that  he  think 
me  Frenchman.  Well,  I  like  Frenchman 
too  — he  kind  to  me  — 

"  But  he  not  my  brother  !  '  Catholica  '  not 
Buddha  !  "  and  Pho-Xa  lapsed  into  silence, 
only  to  start  up  and  look  about  in  a  scared 
way. 

"Why  don't  you  try  to  find  your  brother?  " 
I  asked. 


156  TONQUIN   TALES 

"  I  have  already  sought  him  at  all  villages, 
but  he  with  the  pirates  in  the  mountains. 
No  one  can  tell  me  more  of  him  than  that. 
Now,  I  will  teach  in  a  school,  I  will  teach  the 
French  to  the  little  children.  If  France  must 
be  our  mother,  then  we  must  know  to  speak  to 
her —  to  tell  her  what  we  desire  —  to  tell  her 
of  our  sadness. 

"  For  me  it  seems  good  that  the  France  our 
mother.  I  read  with  the  missionaries  that 
she  a  great  country,  that  no  land  before  her 
in  Europe. 

"  Well,  we  have  also  our  civilization,  our 
knowledge ;  but  it  can  be  that  elsewhere  in 
the  world  is  more  knowledge,  more  wisdom ; 
it  can  be  that  French  knowledge  is  also  good. 
It  can  be  that  by  French  wisdom  we  find 
sooner  Nirvannah !  perhaps.  The  mission 
aries  say —  but  you  '  Catholica; '  you  know 
already  what  they  say.  Sometimes  they  see 
better  than  Buddha.  —  But  they  say  Buddha 
wrong  —  all  wrong ! 

"  I  see  not  that ;  I  see  wrong  with  French 
man  too —  but  not  all  wrong.  I  see." 

"  Fichtre  !  Pho-Xa ;  you  are  not  wise,"  I 
said;  "you  must  learn  to  shut  your  eyes  to 
all  such  things.  You  must  see  only  sunshine 
and  the  beautiful  world.  You  must  hear 
only  harmony ;  when  the  birds  sing,  when  the 
wind  shakes  the  bamboos,  when  the  river 


WORST   OF   THE   BARGAIN      157 

surges  past,  to  these  things  you  may  listen ; 
but  when  there  is  a  noise  in  the  clouds,  when 
bright  fire  strikes  acjross  the  sky,  and  when 
the  missionaries  dispute,  then  you  may  stop 
your  ears ;  such  things  will  make  you  afraid. 
It  is  better  for  you  to  learn  pleasure  than 
fear.  You  must  begin  now  to  find  Nirvannah  ; 
but  if  you  listen  to  discords  you  cannot  reach 
it.  Do  you  understand?" 

"  I  understand  a  little ;  but  there  is  diffi 
culty.  Do  you  find  only  pleasure  and 
gladness?  Do  you  hear  no  thunder  in  the 
sky?" 

For  answer  I  smiled  somewhat  grimly  at 
Pho-Xa,  and  he  understood. 

Van  Ecyke  had  tried  to  follow  our  talk, 
but  it  seemed  as  nonsense  to  him,  and  he  had 
gone  away. 

Then  it  seemed  nonsense  to  me  too,  so  we 
talked  of  other  things  till  we  came  to  Son- 
Tay,  where  Pho-Xa  landed.  I  saw  him  no 
more  for  a  long  time,  for  six  months  or  so; 
and  then  as  I  was  sojourning  at  Than-Ba, 
Driessen,  who  was  of  that  post,  began  to  talk 
about  Paul,  the  school-teacher  down  in  the 
village ;  and  he  asked  me  to  come  and  see 
him.  In  the  evening  we  went  down  and  I 
was  presented. 

"  But  this  is  not  Paul !  this  is  Pho-Xa  !  "  I 
cried ;  and  as  I  spoke  he  recognized  me,  and 


158  TONQUIN   TALES 

then  he  shook  hands  with  me  instead  of  with 
himself  as  he  had  started  to  do. 

I  glanced  around  the  school-room  and  saw 
signs  and  symbols  of  Christianity,  —  crosses 
and  crucifixes,  with  the  Lord's  Prayer  printed 
in  red. 

"  What  is  all  this,  Pho-Xa?"  I  cried.  "Are 
you  '  Catholica '  again?"  In  a  scared  and 
deprecating  way  he  waved  his  hands  towards 
the  walls,  and  looked  at  me  appealingly. 

"  You  see,"  he  stammered,  as  he  drew  me 
apart  from  Driessen,  "it  is  the  quan-hai ;  it 
is  the  lieutenant  of  the  post;  he  give  me  not 
the  school ;  he  let  me  not  teach  when  I  not 
'  Catholica.'  He  never  let  me  teach  shim 
shim  Buddha!  to  tin-yow.  All  same  tin-yow 
learn  shim  skim  Buddha  !  at  home,  and  I 
teach  Pater- Noster  in  school.  Tin-yow  soon 
forget  Pater-Noster,  but  not  forget  shim 
shim  Buddha!  —  Come  !  " 

And  bowing  with  deference  to  Driessen, 
he  led  me  back  into  his  private  chamber, 
where  he  pointed  proudly  to  Buddha's 
image,  where  it  sat  smiling  behind  sticks  of 
burning  incense. 

"  So,  ho  !  "  I  said.  "  '  Catholica '  in  school 
room  and  '  Buddhist  '  in  chamber?  Is  that 
right,  Paul?  Is  that  right,  Pho-Xa?  Did  you 
learn  that  from  the  missionaries,  or  from 
Buddha?  " 


WORST   OF  THE   BARGAIN      159 

"  No,  I  learn  it  from  you." 

"What!  From  me?  Are  you  crazy? 
How  did  you  learn  it.  from  me?  " 

"  O,  you  not  remember?  On  chaloupe 
you  say  to  me  that  I  must  find  gladness.  I 
must  hear  no  bad  things.  Well,  it  is  for  me 
a  bad  thing  if  I  have  hunger,  if  I  have  no 
rice  to  eat.  I  cannot  plant  rice  like  nyack- 
way.  I  can  only  teach  tin-yow.  I  tell  you 
quan-hai  send  me  away  when  I  teach  shim 
skim  Buddha!" 

"  Pho-Xa,  you  did  not  tell  me  that  the 
missionaries  you  were  with  were  Jesuits,  but 
I  fear  they  must  have  been.  I  think  you 
have  taken  this  philosophy  from  them,  and 
not  from  me.  It  is  true  I  have  told  you  to 
seek  pleasure  and  gladness,  but  you  will  not 
find  them  in  a  lie.  If  you  will  be  '  Catholica/ 
then  you  must  forget  Buddha.  How  can  you 
say  Pater-Noster  and  shim  shim  Buddha!  at 
the  same  time?  " 

"  Ah,  but  I  say  not  Pater-Noster  for  me; 
I  say  him  for  tin-yow.  Lieutenant  say  I 
must  teach  '  Catholica.'  I  all  same  as 
machine  for  quan-hai,  so  it  not  I  who 
teach  Pater-Noster,  it  quan-hai.  You  not 
see  that?" 

"  No,"  I  said.  "  I  see  only  falsehood  ;  if 
quan-hai  know  you  say  shim  shim  Buddha 
he  send  you  away.  You  not  see  that?  " 


160  TONQUIN   TALES 

"  Yes,  but  he  not  know.  You  not  tell 
him?  " 

"  No,  surely  I'll  not  tell  him  —  but "  — 

But  it  was  useless  to  argue :  Pho-Xa  had 
learned  a  little  worldly  wisdom,  and  he  was 
putting  it  in  practice. 

It  was  easy  to  blame  him,  and  I  did 
blame  him,  but  perhaps,  as  he  said,  it  was 
indirectly  my  fault  that  he  acted  so ;  per 
haps  this  was  partly  the  result  of  what  I 
had  said  to  him,  and  so  I  said  no  more 
about  it. 

"You  will  still  drink  the  tea  with  me?" 
he  asked. 

"  O,  yes;  why  not?  I  know  you  mean  to 
do  right,  but  you  should  not  try  to  serve  two 
masters.  Have  you  not  heard  that  from  the 
missionaries?  How  can  you  be  Buddhist 
and  'Catholica'  at  the  same  time?" 

"Two  masters?"  he  repeated.  "Is  it? 
Are  they  two  masters?  Are  they  not  dif 
ferent  pictures  of  the  same  master? 

"  I  see  so  much  alike  in  both.  I  am  more 
used  to  Buddha's  picture,  and  I  like  it  better; 
but  Christus?  He  too  show  the  way  to 
Nirvannah  ?  —  not  ?  "  — 

"  Pho-Xa,"  I  said,  "  you  must  never  act 
outwardly  on  such  interior  reasoning.  You 
will  be  misunderstood, — and  you  will  come 
to  grief." 


WORST   OF   THE   BARGAIN      161 

But  Pho-Xa  only  smiled,  and  we  drank  the 
nyuk-tay  together. 

When  I  took  leave  .of  him  I  said  he  had 
better  forget  all  I  had  said  to  him  on  the 
chaloupe. 

And  now  my  word  was  that  he  had  best 
change  his  way  of  life,  else,  soon  or  late, 
mischief  would  come  of  it. 

I  predicted  truer  than  I  intended. 

It  was  from  Driessen  that  I  learned  the 
end  of  Pho-Xa's  story. 

A  month  or  two  after  my  visit  to  Than-Ba 
a  pirate  had  been  captured. 

As  they  made  ready  to  execute  him,  he 
said  that  if  they  would  spare  his  life  he 
would  guide  the  soldiers  to  the  stronghold 
in  the  mountains  where  his  comrades  were. 

He  knew  that  at  the  first  sign  of  double- 
dealing  on  his  part  he  would  be  shot,  so  he 
led  the  soldiers  aright  and  betrayed  his  com 
rades. 

Yet  these  escaped  while  their  fortresses 
and  canias  were  burning. 

Then  their  betrayer  was  set  free  and  led 
back  to  Than-Ba  in  triumph. 

This  was  Pho-Xa's  brother,  and  a  day  or 
two  after  the  return  the  brothers  met. 

It  seems  that  Pho-Xa  was  furious  when  he 
learned  the  truth,  and  he  reviled  his  brother 
bitterly  —  called  him  a  traitor  who  had  sold 
ii 


1 62  TONQUIN   TALES 

his  own  father  for  the  sake  of  his  own  worth 
less  life. 

Thereupon  the  brother  began  to  retaliate, 
accusing  Pho-Xa  of  apostasy. 

By  this  they  had  reached  the  school-room, 
and  there  the  sight  of  the  Catholic  symbols 
so  enraged  the  brother  that  he  sprang  upon 
Pho-Xa  and  clove  his  head  in  twain  with 
the  large  axe-like  knife  which  he  carried. 
There,  in  the  morning,  the  tin-yow  found 
their  master;  and  seeking  farther,  they  found 
the  brother  in  the  inner  chamber,  —  dead 
before  the  shrine  of  Buddha. 


THE    PAGODA 


DAY  after  day  we  had  been  marching, 
and  the  days  counted  up  made  weeks, 
and  the  weeks  —  but  we  lost  the  count. 
We  knew,  however,  that  it  was  early  in  Janu 
ary,  of  1890,  when  our  company  started  out 
after  pirates,  and  we  said  that  if  we  ever  re 
turned  to  our  post  we  would  learn  the  date 
of  our  arrival,  and  begin  again  the  count  of 
times  and  seasons.  Now,  it  did  not  matter; 
one  day  was  just  like  another  day,  and  every 
day  unspeakably  wearisome. 

We  had  been  a  long  time  in  the  mountain 
ous  district  of  north-western  Tonquin,  in  the 
country  of  the  Muongs.  I  had  a  map  of  the 
land,  and  for  a  time  I  was  able  to  trace  our 
wanderings.  But  eventually  I  lost  interest  in 
that,  as  well  as  in  the  course  of  time,  and  I 
went  blindly.  As  much  as  possible  I  de 
tached  my  mind  from  the  present  and  lived 
in  the  past.  Often  there  were  rude  awaken 
ings,  as,  for  example,  when  we  chanced  on  a 
few  pirates,  or  had  unusually  bad  weather, 


1 64  TONQUIN   TALES 

but  by  "  thinking  of  something  else  "  I  did 
not  feel  the  fatigue  so  greatly,  and  so  I  lived 
through  it. 

A  great  many  had  been  unable  to  keep 
on,  and  our  company  was  losing  many  good 
soldiers.  Not  all  of  them  died,  for  at  certain 
points  of  our  march  it  had  been  possible  to 
send  the  sick  ones  back  to  post,  or  on  to 
Hong-Hoa,  where  they  could  be  cared  for. 

At  length,  much  to  my  satisfaction,  we  left 
the  mountains,  where  marching  was  so  hard, 
and  where  the  scenery,  like  a  nightmare,  had 
weighed  upon  me  so  heavily,  and  now  we 
were  down  in  the  lowlands  again. 

On  we  went,  by  winding  streams,  past 
green  rice-fields,  and  through  groves  of 
graceful  palm-trees. 

Sometimes  we  came  to  large  villages,  all 
deserted,  with  the  doors  agape,  and  no  one 
to  bid  us  remain  or  depart.  Some  villages 
showed  signs  of  recent  occupation,  and  others 
had  been  abandoned  for  years. 

Usually  we  would  halt  for  the  night  or  for 
a  day's  rest  at  one  of  these  hamlets,  so  we 
were  seldom  without  a  shelter. 

If  one  can  readily  adapt  himself  to  circum 
stances,  he  will  suffer  much  less  than  if  he 
stipulate  for  customary  usages.  What,  then, 
did  these  Annamites  consider  a  rice  diet  to 
be  good?  Then  why  should  not  I  think  so 


THE    PAGODA  165 

too?  And  it  was  good.  Did  they  sleep 
better  with  a  block  of  wood  for  a  pillow? 
Ah,  what  dreams  have  I  not  had  with  my 
head  thus  at  ease  !  Did  they  prefer  sandals 
to  shoes?  Good  again;  when  my  shoes 
were  worn  out,  a  pair  of  sandals  must  serve 
my  purpose.  Thus,  while  many  others 
sickened  and  died,  I  retained  my  health. 

Sometimes  we  came  upon  the  ruins  of  for 
gotten  cities  of  unknown  civilization ;  frag 
ments  of  brick  walls  nearly  level  with  the 
ground  marked  where  houses  had  stood. 
Who  had  lived  in  them?  Who  had  hated 
and  loved  and  suffered  here?  It  was  ages 
and  ages  ago,  and  these  people  had  been 
born,  had  grown  old  and  died,  and  they 
never  knew  —  never  guessed,  perhaps  —  that 
America  existed. 

They  had  died  and  left  no  sign  except 
these  crumbling  walls,  and  here  and  there  the 
stone  image  of  an  elephant  or  of  some  other 
strange  animal. 

Descuret,  of  our  company,  was  an  Egypt 
ologist,  and  he  was  quite  familiar  with  all 
that  is  known  of  the  old  Egyptian  dynasties  ; 
so  I  thought  I  had  only  to  appeal  to  him,  in 
order  to  find  out  all  I  wanted  to  know  about 
these  ruins.  But,  alas !  he  knew  his  own 
corner  of  the  world,  and  that  was  all.  His 
knowledge  of  hieroglyphic  signs  was  of  no 


166  TONQUIN   TALES 

avail  to  him  here ;  and  to  my  amazement  he 
was  quite  indifferent  about  it ;  nay,  he  even 
seemed  surprised  that  any  one  could  feel  any 
interest  in  anything  of  the  sort  —  outside  of 
Egypt.  He  said,  finally,  that  he  had  heard 
mention  of  certain  kings  called  Le,  who  had 
lived  in  these  parts,  but  how,  and  when,  and 
where  were  all  unknown  to  him.  It  was 
useless  to  ask  the  natives.  If  they  under 
stood  your  questions  or  not,  their  answer  was 
ever  the  same,  "Kongo-bid"  (I  don't 
know),  and  the  exasperation  of  it  all  was 
that  no  one  seemed  to  care.  What  does  this 
mean?  Why  do  you  do  that?  For  what  pur 
pose  is  such  a  thing?  Alas  !  no  one  knows. 
Signs  and  symbols  of  things  meet  one  con 
stantly  ;  the  outward  form  remains,  but  the 
thing  signified  is  dead  and  forgotten.  So 
these  vestiges  of  the  past  ceased  to  interest 
me,  and  I  looked  at  them  as  indifferently  as 
did  my  companions. 

We  had  wandered  beyond  the  Black  river, 
the  Song  Bo,  and  the  name  of  the  last  in 
habited  village  we  had  passed  was  Quinh- 
Lam-Bao.  We  left  it  early  one  morning  and 
proceeded  westward.  A  day  and  part  of  a 
night  we  marched,  and  came  at  last  to  what 
seemed  the  outskirts  of  a  village ;  a  few 
scattered  canias  we  found,  and  in  them  we 
spent  the  rest  of  the  night.  In  the  morning 


THE   PAGODA  167 

the  coolies  and  native  soldiers  who  were  with 
us  began  to  sniff  around,  and  they  finally 
concluded  that  these  canias  had  not  been 
very  long  deserted,  and  it  was  plain  that 
Chinamen  and  not  Annamites  had  been  the 
last  occupants.  A  speedy  council  was  held 
among  the  officers,  and  it  was  decided  to 
sojourn  there  that  day,  and  to  send  out  scout 
ing  parties  to  survey  the  surrounding  coun 
try.  We  were  well  satisfied  to  have  a  day's 
rest,  and  forthwith  we  began  to  cook  the 
dinner;  but  just  then  it  was  arranged  for 
our  squad  to  go  over  the  hill  to  the  left, 
and  furnish  two  sentinels  to  watch  in  that 
direction. 

We  left  the  others  with  orders  to  hurry  the 
dinner,  and  went  off  to  the  hill,  about  half  a 
mile  away.  We  placed  one  sentinel  between 
us  and  the  camp,  and  another  on  the  brow  of 
the  hill. 

The  rest  of  us  found  a  position  in  the 
shade,  and  straightway  we  lay  down  to 
sleep.  All  at  once  I  awoke  and  found  De 
Baise  looking  at  me.  "  Say,"  he  said,  "  there 
is  a  brook  down  below ;  let  us  go  and  wash 
our  shirts." 

"  A  good  idea,"  I  replied  ;  and  in  a  short 
time  our  shirts  were  drying,  white  and  clean, 
on  a  bush.  From  where  we  sat  waiting  we 
could  see  a  large  cania,  and  De  Baise  sug- 


168  TONQUIN   TALES 

gested  that  we  should  go  and  look  inside ;  we 
might  find  something. 

"  All  right,"  I  said  ;  "  but  go  and  get  your 
rifle  first,  for  we  may  find  more  than  we  wish." 

In  a  few  minutes  he  had  fetched  it,  and 
cautiously  we  proceeded  to  examine  the 
cania.  We  found  much  rice  and  paddy  in 
separate  bins,  and  along  one  wall  were  hens' 
nests  in  a  row,  containing  many  fresh  eggs. 

"  Good  !  "  I  cried,  "  we  need  not  care  now 
whether  they  send  us  our  dinner  or  not." 

While  De  Baise  began  to  fill  a  basket  I 
climbed  up  a  ladder  into  the  upper  chamber, 
where  I  found  a  series  of  big  black  lacquered 
boxes,  all  filled  with  books  —  Chinese  books 
which  no  one  could  read.  The  place  was 
dark  and  mouldy,  so  I  pushed  open  a  side  of 
the  wall  and  propped  it  up  like  an  awning. 
In  doing  this  I  saw  the  red-tiled  roof  of  a 
pagoda  farther  down  the  hill.  It  was  half 
hidden  by  the  branches  of  a  banyan-tree,  but 
I  saw  that  the  corners  of  the  roof  were  tilted 
up,  and  this  assured  me  that  it  was  a  pagoda, 
and  not  another  cania. 

I  called  De  Baise  up,  but  all  he  said  was : 
"  Fusty  old  books  !  Come  on  back.  I'm  go 
ing  to  make  an  omelet." 

"  You  can  make  au  rhunt"  I  said,  "  or  an 
tschum-tschum  rather.  There  is  a  jar  of  it 
in  the  corner." 


THE    PAGODA  169 

He  made  one  spring,  and  had  his  nose  at 
the  jar  directly. 

"  Hooray  !  "  he  shotted,  "  so  it  is  !  You 
take  the  eggs,  and  come  along." 

"  Hold  on  !  you  forget  your  shirt,"  I  cried, 
for  he  was  making  rapid  strides  up  to  the 
squad.  In  a  few  minutes  we  were  back,  and 
I  was  just  in  time  to  relieve  one  of  the  sen 
tinels;  De  Baise  should  have  relieved  the 
other,  but  he  wanted  to  cook  the  eggs,  so  he 
changed  places  with  Descuret. 

"Wait  a  little,"  he  said  ;  "  don't  you  want  a 
drink  of  tschum-tschum  before  you  go?"  and 
he  proceeded  to  pour  out  for  us.  It  was  not 
the  ordinary  distillation  of  rice,  but  a  partic 
ular  sort,  known  as  ton-doc,  strong  and  sweet, 
with  a  smack  of  orange  peel. 

It  was  Geniets  whom  I  relieved,  and  as  he 
went  I  told  him  to  keep  his  eye  on  De  Baise. 

"  He's  got  a  jar  of  tschum-tschum"  I  said, 
"  and  he'll  have  you  all  drunk  before  mid 
day,  unless  you  are  prudent."  —  "Tschum- 
tschum?  Where  did  he  get  it?"  But 
without  waiting  to  hear  he  was  off  for  his 
share  of  it. 

Looking  about  me  in  all  directions  I  ob 
served  the  sprawling  limbs  of  a  banyan-tree, 
and  then  I  remembered  the  pagoda,  the  roof 
of  which  I  had  seen  from  the  cania.  I  had 
not  spoken  of  it  to  De  Baise,  because  his 


I/O  TONQUIN   TALES 

excitement  over  the  tschum-tschum  had  put 
it  out  of  my  head. 

During  the  first  part  of  my  sentry  duty  I 
felt  fresh  and  exhilarated.  A  clean  shirt  and 
a  cup  of  tschum-tschum  had  made  a  change 
in  my  spirits,  so  that  I  saw  the  bright  side 
of  everything  —  even  of  this  interminable 
march.  But  soon  the  sun  reached  the  zenith, 
and  my  enthusiasm  all  trickled  away  in  per 
spiration.  I  was  sure  my  two  hours  were 
finished  long  ago,  yet  no  one  came  to  relieve 
me.  Faintly  I  could  hear  the  murmur  of 
voices  up  at  the  squad,  and,  yes,  that  was 
De  Baise  singing  in  a  weak  falsetto  : 

"  N'allez  pas  chez  le  marchand  de  vin,  qui 
fait  le  coin,  coin,  coin  !  " 

"  Yes,"  I  thought,  "  they  are  all  drunk, 
and  the  corporal  too ;  and  here  I  may  stand 
till  I  drop,  —  the  mean  pigs  !  " 

But  by  and  by  Van  Eycke  came  jogging 
along  to  take  my  place  (the  corporal  had  not 
-bothered  to  come  with  him),  and  as  I  saw  he 
was  quite  well  able  to  stand  up,  I  gave  him 
the  watchword,  and  went  back  to  the  squad. 
De  Baise  had  gone  to  relieve  Descuret,  but 
he  had  left  me  a  big  slab  of  burned  omelet 
reeking  of  tschum-tschum.  However,  the  soup 
had  come  from  the  camp,  so  I  did  not  grum 
ble.  After  an  hour's  sleep  I  sat  up  with  my 
thoughts  running  on  the  pagoda. 


THE    PAGODA  171 

"  Is  there  any  of  the  tschnm-tschum  left?  " 
asked  Descuret,  who  also  was  awake. 

"I  don't  know,"  I  said,  "look  in  the  jar; 
it's  there  by  the  tree." 

There  was  a  little,  and  we  shared  it. 

''Where  did  you  get  it?"  he  asked. 

"Down  there  in  a  cania.  I  say,  will  you 
come  and  examine  a  pagoda  that  is  just  be 
yond?  Take  your  rifle  and  come." 

"  Hadn't  we  better  tell  the  corporal?"  he 
asked. 

"  You  can,  if  you  like  ;  but  he's  asleep,  and 
he'll  not  thank  you  for  waking  him." 

"  Come  on,  then,"  he  said  ;  "  where  is  it?  " 

"Not  far;  that  banyan-tree  down  there 
hides  it;  we'll  be  there  in  a  minute." 

"  If  you  think  we  can  find  any  more 
tschum-tschum?"  he  whispered. 

"What?     In  a  pagoda?    Are  you  crazy?  " 

"  No,  of  course  not,  but  you  said  there  was 
a  cania" 

"  Yes,  yes,  there's  the  cania,  over  there, 
but  De  Baise  and  I  were  all  through  it,  and 
found  only  one  jar ;  you  can  go  in  and  look, 
if  you  like,  and  I'll  mount  guard.  You'll  see 
the  roof  of  the  pagoda  from  the  upper  cham 
ber.  Hurry  up  !  " 

In  a  little  while  he  came  out,  carrying  a 
dead  chicken. 

"  We'll  roast  this  for  our  supper,"  he  said. 


i;2  TONQUIN   TALES 

"  But  look  here ;  I  saw  the  roof  of  your 
pagoda,  and  I  don't  want  to  see  any  more  of 
it.  Come  on  back."  And  in  a  hesitating 
way  he  began  to  pluck  at  the  chicken. 

"  Why  ;  what's  the  matter  with  you  now? 
Why  don't  you  want  to  go?  " 

"Because  this  is  Friday  —  my  unlucky 
day." 

"  Ho  !  ho  !  "  I  jeered.  "  This  from  you  ! 
But  how  in  the  world  do  you  know  it's 
Friday?  Have  you  found  a  calendar  in 
the  cania  ?  Ten  to  one  it's  Sunday  !  Come 
on,  don't  be  a  fool !  What  would  your 
friend  Geniets  say  if  I  were  to  tell  him  this? 
How  did  you  make  the  discovery  that  to-day 
is  Friday?" 

"  How  do  I  know  that  fire  will  burn  me? 
I  know  it's  Friday  because  I  feel  it.  I  feel 

there  is  misfortune    in  the    air.     Can't   you 

feel  it?" 

By  this  he   had  the    leg    of  the    fowl    all 

plucked  bare,  and  as  sober  as  a  sphinx  he 

began  at  the  other. 

"See    here,    Descuret,"    I    snapped    out, 

"you  disgust  me:   you  throw  scorn  at  these 

poor  natives  on  account  of  their  superstitions ; 

they  burn  sticks  and  paper,  and  scatter  rice 

and  salt,    all    to    ward    off    evil    influences. 

Suppose  you  go  back  and  get  a  handful  of 

rice  and  try  it ;   you'll  find  some  in  the  left- 


THE   PAGODA  173 

hand  corner,  —  you  and  your  Fridays ! 
Once  for  all,  are  you  coming?  " 

He  looked  up  from  his  chicken  and  said : 
"  Yes,  since  you  are  so  bent  upon  it." 

"  Leave  your  chicken  here,  then ;  we'll 
come  back  this  way — and  hurry  up!  " 
He  placed  the  half-plucked  fowl  behind  a 
clump  of  ferns,  and  we  went  on.  At  the 
foot  of  the  hill  we  found  "  a  sudden  little 
river "  supplied  from  a  stream  higher  up. 
We  walked  along  the  bank,  but  found  no 
place  to  ford.  We  could  see  the  high  white 
wall  enclosing  the  pagoda  at  about  a  stone's 
throw  from  where  we  stood  debating. 

"  Look  !  "  I  said ;  "  there's  a  bridge  far 
ther  down."  Sure  enough;  and  in  a  few 
minutes  we  were  at  the  walls  looking  for  an 
entrance.  On  the  south  side  we  found  a 
gate  flanked  fry  two  plastered  pillars,  crowned 
by  furious  griffins  with  porcelain  eyeballs, 
glittering  fearfully.  The  gate  was  of  some 
heavy  wood,  and  it  resisted  our  efforts  to 
push  it  in." 

11  Wait  a  minute,"  I  said ;  "  give  me  a 
hand  to  get  over  the  wall,  and  I'll  open  it 
from  the  inside  and  let  you  in." 

A  branch  of  the  banyan-tree  came  within 
my  reach,  and  by  a.  little  effort  I  pulled  my 
self  up  and  got  over.  As  I  dropped  into 
the  court-yard  a  chill  shuddered  through 


174  TONQUIN   TALES 

me,  but  not  waiting  to  analyze  it,  I  ran  and 
unbarred  the  gate,  and  let  Descuret  in.  The 
countless  trunks  of  the  tree  filled  the  place, 
and  its  branches  and  serpentine  roots  were 
like  the  tentacles  of  some  gigantic  polypus 
with  the  pagoda  in  their  clutches. 

Strange  plants  grew  in  the  corners  of  the 
yard,  and  parasitic  ferns  and  lichens  were 
everywhere  suspended.  The  whole  place 
was  dank  and  dark,  and  curiously  like  a 
picture  out  of  Dante's  "  Inferno."  I  shud 
dered  again  as  we  stood  there  hesitating. 

The  walls  on  the  interior  were  covered 
with  bas-reliefs  of  elephants,  and  with  colos 
sal  storks  standing  on  the  backs  of  enormous 
turtles ;  then  there  were  drawings  in  black 
and  white  of  birds,  of  impossible  flowers,  and 
of  men  —  Chinamen  —  in  improbable  post 
ures.  All  this  was  Chinese  art  —  original 
or  copied. 

In  front  of  us  was  the  pagoda  on  a  higher 
level,  with  broad  low  steps  leading  to  it. 
The  tiled  roof  with  its  great  carved  rafters 
was  supported  by  vast  wooden  pillars,  based 
on  large  flat  stones. 

Three  monstrous  wooden  statues  of  Bud 
dha,  sitting  in  a  row,  faced  the  entrance. 
These  were  painted  and  gilded  and  lacquered, 
in  radiant  brightness,  as  contrasted  with  the 
gloom  of  their  surroundings.  They  were 


THE    PAGODA  175 

raised  a  few  feet  above  the  floor,  and  while 
the  two  end  ones  looked  stern  and  forbid 
ding,  the  one  between  them  smiled  invit 
ingly.  On  approaching,  we  found  these 
statues  to  be  of  superior  workmanship,  and 
not  like  the  ordinary  images  we  were  used  to. 

On  a  low  table  before  each  of  them  were 
placed  the  usual  offerings  of  paper  horses, 
paper  shoes,  bundles  of  paper  cubes;  and 
what  were  these  ?  bars  of  gold  and  silver  ?  No  ; 
they  were  only  little  pieces  of  wood  skilfully 
covered  with  tinsel.  The  intention  was  mag 
nanimous,  and  Buddha  probably  winked  at 
the  deception. 

"Well,  have  you  seen  enough?"  asked 
Descuret.  " There  is  nothing  new;  we  may 
as  well  go  back.  It's  the  same  old  story 
that  we've  seen  a  hundred  times." 

"What,  you're  not  afraid,  are  you?  Let 
us  go  in,  and  we  may  find  some  pieces  of 
bronze,  some  small  image  of  Buddha. 
Ziegledach  found  one  in  a  pagoda  at  Dai- 
Lisch,  and  sold  it  to  the  administrator  for 
ten  piasters.  Let  us  look,  as  long  as  we  are 
here." 

We  walked  in,  past  the  three  images,  and 
found  a  series  of  altars  with  numbers  of  other 
smaller  images  smiling  blandly  at  us  from  all 
sides.  There  were  tall,  wooden  screens 
standing  about,  some  of  them  miraculously 


i;6  TONQUIN   TALES 

carved,  and  others  strangely  incrusted  with 
mother-of-pearl. 

In  looking  about  I  began  to  feel  uneasy  in 
my  mind.  I  had  been  poking  and  peering 
here  and  there  for  any  portable  object  of  art, 
with  the  innocent  intention  of  appropriating 
it  in  the  face  of  all  the  gods,  but  something 
checked  me,  and  I  plucked  at  Descuret,  and 
said:  "  Come,  then,  if  you  want  to,  I've  seen 
enough.  As  you  say,  there  is  nothing  new 
here."  But  he  had  been  set  on  fire  by  what 
I  had  said  about  Ziegledach  finding  the 
small  bronze  Buddha,  and  was  as  eager  to 
stay  as  at  first  he  had  been  eager  to  go. 

"Hold  on,"  he  said;  "look  up  there!" 
and  he  pointed  to  the  carved  cross-beams  of 
the  roof,  on  which  was  placed  a  long  coffin- 
shaped  box. 

"  O,  that  is  nothing,"  I  said ;  "  I  know 
what's  in  that.  It  is  where  they  always  keep 
the  big  paper  umbrellas,  wooden  axes, 
swords,  and  spears,  et  cetera;  all  the  old 
paraphernalia  of  a  religious  service.  You've 
seen  it  all  scores  of  times." 

"Well,  and  what  if  I  should  find  a  small 
bronze  Buddha  there  too?  What  would  you 
say  to  that?  Wait.  I'm  going  up." 

"  Well,  make  haste,"  I  said,  for  my  feeling 
of  uneasiness  was  increasing. 

Glancing  around  the  enclosure  it  seemed 


THE   PAGODA  177 

as  if  all  the  images  had  fixed  me  with  their 
gleaming  eyes ;  and  I  was  anxious  to  get 
out  into  the  sunlight-  again,  away  from  the 
place. 

"  Hurry  up  !  hurry  up  !  I'm  getting  the 
fever,"  I  cried,  for  I  felt  cold  thrills  coursing 
up  and  down  my  spine.  I  helped  him  drag 
over  a  heavy  wooden  ladder-like  stair,  and  I 
watched  him  as  he  mounted  to  the  box  up 
on  the  cross-beams. 

A  certain  feeling  of  safety  while  he  stood 
near  me  had  kept  back  my  fear,  but  now 
that  I  stood  alone  I  began  to  tremble.  No, 
it  was  not  the  fever  which  was  in  my  blood, 
but  fear  —  actual  terror.  I  wanted  to  call 
out  to  him  and  bid  him  to  come  back,  but,  as 
if  I  were  in  a  nightmare,  I  could  not  open 
my  lips. 

Letting  my  glance  fall  from  him,  as  catlike 
he  was  working  out  on  a  broad  beam  tow 
ards  the  box,  my  eyes  met  those  of  an 
image,  not  noticed  till  then.  It's  face  was 
like  a  hideous  Japanese  mask,  and  it  leered 
at  me  in  a  mad,  mocking  way,  ghastly  and 
horrible. 

Again  I  tried  to  cry  out,  but  my  voice 
died  in  my  throat;  and  an  instant's  thought 
told  me  it  was  well  it  had  done  so,  for  how 
easily  might  I  have  startled  Descuret  and 
made  him  fall. 

12 


i;8  TONQUIN   TALES 

I  looked  up  to  him  again  and  saw  he  had 
reached  the  box  and  had  opened  it ;  he  was 
kneeling  beside  it,  poking  in  it  with  his  right 
hand. 

A  strange  sweet  odor  came  down  and  filled 
the  whole  pagoda.  Twas  like  the  souls  of 
all  the  roses  that  had  ever  bloomed. 

"  And  strew  faint  sweetness  from  some  old 
Egyptian's  fine,  worm-eaten  shroud 
Which  breaks  to  dust  when  once  unrolled." 


Vaguely  these  lines  of  Browning's  came 
into  my  mind,  and  for  the  nonce  my  fear  was 
gone. 

But,  good  God !  what  was  that  in  Descu- 
ret's  face?  As  I  stood  gazing  at  him  a  look 
of  unspeakable  terror  struck  across  it,  and 
from  his  blanched  lips  an  awful  cry  escaped. 
Then  back  —  he  struggled  back  —  recoiling 
from  the  accursed  box,  and  came  falling  head 
long  to  the  floor.  My  own  fear  was  at  its 
climax,  and  echoing  his  scream  I  darted  for 
ward  to  save  him  from  death.  He  crushed 
me  down  with  him,  but  in  an  instant  he 
bounded  to  his  feet,  and  I  staggered  to  mine, 
and  out  we  ran,  as  though  ten  thousand  devils 
were  after  us.  We  never  stopped  till  we 
reached  the  squad,  where  the  corporal  was 
still  asleep,  and  where  De  Baise,  back  from 


THE   PAGODA  179 

his  two  hours'  duty,  sat  nibbling  a  piece  of 
leather-like  omelet. 

As  we  came  rushing  up  with  wild  fear  in 
our  eyes  he  jumped  to  his  feet  and  said : 
"What  is  it?  Pirates?  Where  are  they? 
Are  they  coming?" 

I  shook  my  head.  "  No,  it's  not  pirates  ; 
I  —  I  don't  know  what  it  is  —  we  —  I  —  ask 
him  !  "  I  stammered,  pointing  to  Descuret. 

But  Descuret  threw  himself  down  on  the 
ground  and  hid  his  face  in  his  hands ;  he  lay 
there  breathing  heavily  and  trembling  in 
every  muscle. 

The  corporal  awoke  and  said :  "  He's  got 
the  fever ;  two  of  you  lead  him  back  to  the 
camp,  and  get  him  some  quinine.  Tell  the 
captain."  Then  he  looked  at  me  and  asked : 
"  Have  you  got  the  fever  too  ?  " 

"  No,"  I  replied ;  "  I'll  be  all  right  pres 
ently.  I'm  frightened,  that's  all." 

Geniets  came  up  then,  and  seeing  his 
friend  Descuret  lying  there  shaking,  he 
stooped  and  asked  him  what  was  the 
matter. 

"We  were  in  a  pagoda  down  there,"  I 
explained,  "  and  he  climbed  up  to  look  in  a 
box.  I  don't  know  what  he  saw  in  it,  but  he 
was  frightened  and  fell  backwards  to  the 
floor.  He  is  bruised,  I  guess."  And  then  I 
realized  that  my  own  right  wrist  was  sprained 


1 8o  TONQUIN   TALES 

so  that  I  could  not  bend  it:  it  was  all  swollen. 
"  See,"  I  cried,  "  he  fell  on  me.  Ask  him 
what  he  saw."  And  Geniets,  with  his  voice 
at  Descuret's  ear  and  his  hand  on  his 
shoulder,  whispered  :  "  What  is  it,  old  chap? 
What  did  you  see  in  the  box?" 

But  Descuret  only  shuddered  and  shrunk 
closer  to  the  ground.  Soon  he  turned  over 
and  sat  up,  and  then  it  was  plain  that  his 
fear  had  been  great,  for  part  of  his  hair  had 
turned  white. 

"  IT  moved  !  "  he  gasped.  "  IT  moved  when 
I  touched  IT  ;  a  long  yellow  hand,  with  long 
finger-nails;  IT  clutched  at  my  hand  as  I 
groped  in  the  box." 

"  Where?  What  box?  "  asked  the  corpo 
ral,  who  was  listening. 

But  just  then  an  under  officer  from  the 
camp  arrived  with  the  order  that  we  should 
all  return,  and  get  ready  to  march  within 
the  hour.  Descuret  struggled  to  his  feet 
and  said :  "  It  is  time  we  got  away  from  this 
damned  place!  Come  on,  —  but  where's 
my  rifle?"  At  the  same  instant  I  realized 
that  my  rifle  too  was  missing ! 

"  Good  heavens  !  "  I  cried.  "  We  left  our 
rifles  at  the  gate  of  the  pagoda,  and  did  not 
stop  for  them  as  we  ran  out ;  we'll  have  to 
go  back  for  them." 

"  Never  !  "    screamed    Descuret.    "  I'll  not 


THE   PAGODA  181 

go  back  for  anything ;  but  Geniets  will  go 
with  you,  —  and  (with  his  teeth  still  chat 
tering)  —  and  get  the  chicken  when  you're 
coming  back;  it's  behind  a  clump  of  ferns 
near  the  cania." 


GLOSSARY. 

ADOW? where? 

BA three. 

BABA turban. 

BA'IA old  woman. 

BIET? do  you  know? 

B'ZOO monkey. 

CAI corporal. 

CANIA house. 

CANUFA prison. 

Dl-ADOW? where  do  you  go? 

DIVAY to  go. 

Doi .     .     .     .     sergeant. 

EEM!     •......,     .; silence! 

FAI      .     .     ....'.     .     .     .     .     .     .     .  yes. 

FOO-TYUNG       ......     civil  officer. 

HAI    ...........       two. 

KA-BOOM     .     . stomach. 

KA-DENH     .     . torch-fire. 

KA-LAT bamboo-withe. 

KA-MAT eye. 

KA-QUAN trowsers. 


1 84  GLOSSARY 

KAY-OW tunic. 

KONGO no,  not. 

KONGO-BIET don't  know. 

KONGOI woman. 

LEM  or  LAM very. 

LlE-THUNG mayor. 

LlNH  or  LINH-TAP soldier. 

MOT one. 

Mow! hurry! 

Mow-LEM  ! very  fast. 

Muoi'        salt;  ten. 

NA! man. 

NYAK-WAY rice-planter. 

NYUK       water. 

NYUK-TAY liquid  tea. 

Oo-TlA  ! cry  of  surprise. 

Ow yes. 

QUAN-BA captain. 

QUAN-BON colonel. 

QUAN-FOO a  sup.  governor. 

QUAN-HAI lieutenant. 

QUAN-MEAW a  cat. 

TlN-YOW      .     .      little  one ;  child ;    childen. 
ToN-Dor  $  a  suPerior  governor. 

A  vyiN—  LJ\J\^          m        •         .  "\       t  1    •       i        r  •)• 

I  also  a  kind  of  liquor. 

TOT good. 

TSOU         bad. 

YACK pirate. 


THIS     BOOK     HAS     BEEN      PRINTED      DURING      OCTOBER 
1895     BY     ROCKWELL     AND    CHURCHILL      OF      BOSTON. 


Q    "    go, 

S-llQ 

-,  ^c  _O 


Q   -'  (D 

fi  O 

tD1?.  _m 


-c  o-< 


I          ! 


I       I 


* 

i  — 

0 

T> 

Is 

^^    m 

^S 

"o 

I   0 

Tl   "" 

Cn 

to 

O 

CO 

•    W"^ 

og 


•o 

/O 

m 


U..S:  BERKELEY  LIBRARIES 


M176649 


THE  UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 


